


Stronger Than A Feeling

by breeisonfire



Series: Shutter 'verse [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Badass EVERYONE, Gen, Hurt Scott, Hurt Stiles, I just remembered to tag sterek what is happening, Kidnapping, Pack Dynamics, Slurs (but to werewolves?), Teamwork, There's probably more to tag but I don't know what at the moment, Torture, Undercover, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:25:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of people who call themselves 'collectors' come to town and take Scott, cutting him off from the pack bond. Needless to say, the pack is pissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap you guys, sorry for the hiatus. I got involved in a musical and it went a little crazy. Here's the next part of the Shutter 'verse, another chapter fic. Again, it's gonna be less focused on Sterek and more on the pack as a whole unit. Also, I've only just started this, unlike the last one where I had like almost every chapter done before I posted it, I'm only a few chapters ahead, so the updates are going to be more spread out than in the past.
> 
> Important info: If you remember, I originally had Derek having his class on Saturdays and Sundays, for an 8-week course. I have been reliably informed by [kamistrife](http://kamistrife.tumblr.com/) on tumblr that this would make it seem like he'd half-assed it, and we don't want that. So I've changed it to make him have a 16-week course, Monday and Wednesday nights. Not much of a change, I just wanted everyone to be aware of it.
> 
> This fic starts the Saturday before the 4th of July. This chapter's kinda short compared to everything else I've written, but I'll make up for it, I promise.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://the-bookkeepers.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Beta'd by whatthehale!

Scott yawns as he gets onto his bike to go to the store. His mom had a couple of requests and he’d promised to pick it up so she wouldn’t have to when she left work, since she’d had an early shift. Isaac’s out with Danny at a movie that they’d both wanted to see, Lydia and Allison are out shopping, preparing for the new school year, and Stiles and Derek are at Derek’s apartment on an impromptu date. It’s been relatively quiet on the supernatural front, which is good, because they’re _still_ dealing with fallout from the last attack, specifically Derek’s tendency to have flashbacks.

Scott only knows about them because Stiles does, and Stiles only knows because he’s witnessed a few. Scott has no doubt that if Stiles hadn’t witnessed any, no one would know about them, and he’s not happy about it. He’s glad Stiles kept him informed, but he wants to go to his mom, or to the sheriff, or to Deaton, to ask what they should do. Stiles shut that down, but promised to talk about it with Derek. Scott hasn’t heard about it since, and he’s planning on asking Stiles about it the next time they’re alone. He’s worried and he wants to help, not just as an Alpha, but as Derek’s friend. But he trusts Stiles, and he’s pretty sure Stiles cares about Derek (one hundred percent sure; watching them make out is somewhat unsettling due to their past), so he’ll let Stiles handle it.

He’s so involved in his thoughts that he nearly misses the truck speeding up behind him. He hears it long before he realizes what’s going on, and when he looks, he realizes they’re way too close to him. He tries to speed up, but before he can, the truck hits his back tire, and it throws Scott’s balance off just enough for him to lose control. His reflexes kick in and tries to catch his balance, but he’s slowed down and the truck hasn’t and they ram into the bike and Scott’s thrown off the bike.

He’s airborne for a few seconds, just long enough to think _holy shit where’s the ground_ before he slams full force into a hard surface and he has barely a second to feel all of his injuries before the world slips away.

He doesn’t think it’s been long when he wakes up. He’s still on the ground, in a heap, and his injuries all feel fresh. Something is completely wrong, and at first he’s too disoriented to figure out what. He starts taking inventory of himself.

He’s bleeding in several different places, and his face feels like it’s burning. His leg is most definitely broken. He’s pretty sure part of his bike has imbedded itself in his stomach, he’s struggling to breathe, and his ears are ringing, but all of that is pushed aside when he realizes exactly what is so wrong.

He can’t feel the pack. The bond is gone. All six of them, just _gone_. For the first time since becoming an Alpha, he feels completely alone.

Instinct takes over before anything else can, and when someone touches his arm, he snaps, claws out. He smells blood and hears a yell, but he’s having a hard time seeing anything. The world is spinning around him, and he _knows_ he shouldn’t be up, knows he should be letting himself heal, but he can’t control it. Vaguely, he remembers when he and Derek had worked on making the pack bond Scott’s anchor.

Clearly, they hadn’t been prepared for _this_.

Someone yells an order that Scott can’t make out through the ringing and blood pumping in his ear, and then suddenly _fire_ is ripping through him and he drops, all of his injuries protesting. He wants to fight, wants to rip the throat out of whoever took his pack from him, but he can’t move, can’t even focus on one sound long enough to recognize what it is. The fire is relentless, and he’s pretty sure he’s choking on his screams, but he can’t tell, he just wants it to stop.

And then, it does. The fire is gone, replaced by the agony of his injuries, and he lays there on the ground, panting. His face is wet, and he knows he’s been crying. His mouth tastes like blood, and his throat hurts. _Everything_ hurts.

“Did you kill him?”

The woman’s voice is the first thing Scott’s able to make out, and dimly he notices that the voice is unfamiliar and pissed off. He’s pretty sure he’s in trouble, but he can’t get his body to respond to him, and his pack is _gone_ , and he doesn’t know why. The fight’s gone out of him.

“No, he’s alive,” a man says, and Scott’s pushed onto his back. “He’s younger than I thought.”

“Who cares, let’s just get him in the truck and out of here before he wakes up, or anyone calls the police. Dump his bike over there.”

Scott’s lifted by something, and his injuries scream in protest as they’re jostled. Scott can’t hold back the whimper, and lets out a strangled yell when he’s dropped straight onto another hard surface. He’s laid out on his back, and he can hear someone next to him as the truck starts up and starts moving. He can feel his injuries healing, but they’re doing so slowly and he’s still losing blood. Scott can’t stay awake and floats in and out of consciousness for a while.

He jolts awake when the car stops. He still feels awful, and he doesn’t think he’s done healing, but he’s exhausted. Healing takes up energy, and energy comes from eating and drinking, and the last thing he’d eaten was a sandwich at Allison’s apartment the night before. He’d planned to eat at the cafe across the street from the store before shopping. He doesn’t know what happens if he doesn’t have the energy to heal, but he’s betting it’s not good.

His senses are starting to work right again, though, so he forces himself to listen around him. There’s not much to hear. There’s footsteps, and heartbeats, but Scott doesn’t have the ability to focus hard enough on them. He can hear the wind outside, and past the scent of his own blood, he can smell grass and dirt, and the smell he usually associates with the woods. It’s not the preserve -- he’d recognize that immediately -- so he doesn’t know _where_ he is, but he knows he’s in the woods.

There’s a thump, and someone swears, and Scott winces as he feels the surface he’s laying on move. He’s not restrained, but Scott’s pretty sure fighting right now is a horrible idea, so he stays still. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He doesn’t know who he’s with, or why he’s here, or where here is, and he doesn’t know if his pack is okay. He knows there’s magic that can cut off a pack bond, but he doesn’t know if it’s been done, and doesn’t know how to find out.

In short, he knows next to nothing. Which is terrifying.

He doesn’t move as whatever he’s laying on is placed down on what he thinks is the ground and he’s lifted off of it.  His leg is definitely _not_ healed and it hurts when it’s touched, but he keeps still. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, but when he’s dropped onto the ground, after the pain from hitting yet _another_ hard surface, he opens his eyes  and goes to jump up.

He’s not expecting to hit the top of a cage, but the top of his head hits it hard, and a shock rushes through Scott’s body. He drops again, and groans. He lifts his head and looks around. His vision is swimming again, and he’s dangerously close to vomiting, but he’s able look around.

He’s in what looks like a bedroom, the bed shoved to one side and the curtains drawn. He’s in a small cage that he knows he won’t be able to sit up straight in. He’s insulted, even more so when he realizes there’s something around his neck and finds a _collar_. Like a common _dog_. He can’t hold back the snarl and jumps when there’s a laugh from outside the room.

A man walks through the door, smirking at Scott.

“You might as well make yourself comfortable, you’re not going anywhere.”

Scott can almost _hear_ Stiles bitching about how he’s going down the cliche villain path and forces the rush of fear he feels when he remembers he can’t sense him or the pack. Instead, he just glares at the man, letting his eyes flash red to convey his feelings.

The man doesn’t even flinch, which doesn’t bode well for Scott. He doesn’t back down from his glare, though. He refuses to show any more weakness to these people. He doesn’t know why they’ve taken him or what they plan to do, but he’s not going to just lie down and take it. He’ll find a way out of here, and he’ll find his pack. He has to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm just on a roll with this fic. Sorry, guys, there's been a lot of 'I don't know what I'm doing' involved in the making of this fic. It's moving really slowly and I keep getting distracted by a few of my other projects. Never fear, I shall eventually actually figure out what I'm doing. Maybe. I hope.
> 
> Also, this chapter is a bit longer than my usual chapter lengths, so there's that.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://the-bookkeepers.tumblr.com/)! Come yell at me to motivate me...
> 
> Beta'd by whatthehale!

Stiles yawns. He’s stretched out on the couch in Derek’s living room, his head in Derek’s lap. They’re watching _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ and just relaxing. Derek’s been busy with his class lately, and Stiles has been helping his dad at the station (he’s totally being consulted for cases that might have supernatural elements, but no one needs to know that), so they haven’t had much time for dates lately. It was slightly frustrating, and Stiles is just glad to have Derek to himself for a while.

“You’re not even paying attention,” Derek informs him.

“I don’t need to pay attention,” Stiles replies. “I already know what happens. I’ve seen this series all the way through twice, and I watched it when it first premiered.”

Derek makes a face at him. “Of course you did.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to watch this,” Stiles says, grinning up at him. “Not that I blame you. It’s a good show.”

Derek just turns back to the TV, pretending to ignore Stiles. He can tell Derek’s faking by the little smile on his face, and just grins to himself. He loves making Derek smile. It’s one of this favorite things to do.

Stiles stretches and decides to close his eyes for a while. He loves summer because it means he can basically sleep whenever he wants, so he’s going to take advantage of that right now and take a nap. He feels Derek put his hand in his hair and start playing with it. It’s soothing, and he soon drifts off.

Only to jerk awake several minutes later, a rush of fear that is not his own flowing through him. It takes him a few seconds to figure out exactly what’s going on, and by that time Derek’s already moved him off his lap and is on his feet, looking panicked.

“Scott,” is all Derek says, and Stiles nods, because the fear he’d felt from their Alpha was _intense_ and unexpected, and now Stiles can feel Scott going unconscious. He pushes himself off the couch and doesn’t even bother stopping to put his shoes on, instead grabbing them to put on later. He can sense everyone else’s anger and worry and knows they’re not the only ones on their way out the door.

Stiles is about to question which vehicle they should take when it happens.

Stiles has always pictured the pack bond in his mind to be a string that connects each of them to each other. He pictures a different color for everyone (Red for Scott, of course, blue for Derek, yellow for Isaac, green for Lydia, brown for Allison, orange for Danny, and purple for himself), going from each person to another, keeping them connected through this transcendental link. He wasn’t aware when he was cut off from the rest of the pack (and thank God for that, he probably wouldn’t have handled it well), but he thinks of it as the string snapping, or being cut. The time it happened to him probably wasn’t that dramatic or sudden, given the fact that the pack didn’t notice immediately (although admittedly the bond wasn’t as strong). On the complete opposite of the spectrum is how sudden and _terrifying_ the snap had been when Isaac had been shot. That was something Stiles doesn’t ever want to experience again.

 _This_ is somewhere in the middle. One second, Scott was there, they could feel him, feel that he was unconscious and probably in pain, and then suddenly, he wasn’t there. It’s nowhere near as devastating a change as it had been with Isaac, it’s more smooth, but Stiles still feels like he’s suffocating. Scott’s just gone. His Alpha, his best friend, his _brother_ …

Stiles doesn’t know how long he stands there panicking, but he knows he’s not the only one doing it, and he dimly notes that as Scott’s second, technically he’s in charge of the pack now. It makes Stiles feel sick, but he’s got to pull himself together, for the pack. Especially because he can feel all of the others panicking just as much as him.

He takes a deep breath and firmly grounds himself before pulling out his phone. He’s about to tell everyone to head to where Scott was, but he stops when he realizes they don’t know where he is. Which is just _great_.

The logical thing is to go to Scott’s house, since Stiles knows that’s where he was last, and he sends a text to everyone that just says, ‘Scott’s house. Now.’

Then he grabs Derek’s arm and pulls him into the Jeep. Derek’s pale and shaking, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s having a panic attack. He starts talking to Derek to calm him down while simultaneously trying to not get pulled over and holding back his own panic. It’s an adventure.

He’s not surprised when he and Derek are the first ones there, and he notices immediately Scott’s bike isn’t there. He unlocks the door and yells for Scott anyway, because he’s allowed to be hopeful, damnit.

Unsurprisingly, there’s no answer, and when he lifts an eyebrow at Derek, he shakes his head.

“There’s no one else here,” he says. His voice is quiet and rough, but he seems to have regained control for the most part. Stiles nods and looks around. He’s gotta come up with a plan and fast, because everyone else is on their way, and they’ve got to move fast if they want to find out what happened.

The door opens and Allison and Lydia are there, both pale and nervous. Allison’s got her crossbow in her hands, pointed directly at Stiles, and Lydia’s behind her. They both relax when they see Derek and Stiles there and hurry in.

“There’s no one here,” Stiles says.

“His bike isn’t here,” Allison says. She’s holding herself upright, in a posture Stiles privately refers to as her ‘badass hunter’ posture. Lydia’s got her arms crossed defensively and is giving the wall a hard look, like she wants to blame the situation on it. Stiles looks at her, but before he can say anything, Isaac bursts through the door. His eyes are bright yellow, like he can’t hold it back, and he looks around at the group before blinking, his eyes returning to normal. Danny comes through the door then, and looks shaken and irritated.

Isaac zeroes in on Stiles and says, “What’s going on?”

Stiles winces. “I don’t know. I know as much as you guys do.”

A thought occurs to him right then, and he turns to Lydia. “Any feelings?”

She blinks, then closes her eyes. For a horrible moment, Stiles is sure she’s going to scream and they’re going to learn that Scott is dead, but after a moment, she opens her eyes and shakes her head.

“That’s good, right?” Danny says hopefully. “That means he isn’t dead. Right?”

Stiles frowns. “Most likely. Generally if there’s a death relating to the supernatural in the area, she senses it.”

“We don’t have an Alpha right now,” Derek says quietly. Everyone looks at him.

“No, but we do have Stiles,” Allison says, sounding confused.

Derek shakes his head. “No, I meant -- Scott’s Alpha. If he was...dead, we’d have a new Alpha by now. _Who_ would depend on how it happened. If it was another werewolf, that wolf would be our temporary Alpha, since our bond is so strong. If it _wasn’t_ a wolf, then likely one of us would be Alpha.”

“Who?” Stiles asks.

Derek hesitates. “Most likely you. You’re human, but you’re still Scott’s second, and it’s not like our pack follows normal rules anyway.”

Stiles snorts. He feels better, but he’s still worried. He takes a second to organize his thoughts. “Okay. Then our first job is to figure out what the hell happened. We go in pairs. Isaac, Derek, you two should follow Scott’s scent trail. His bike’s gone, which means you should be able to track him, right?” he waits for them to nod before continuing. “Lydia, Allison, you two go to Allison’s dad and tell him what’s going on, see if he knows of anything in the area. Danny, you’re gonna come with me, we’re going to talk to Deaton to ask about why we can’t sense Scott. Keep your phones on and call if you find anything or if you need help. Check in every half hour.”

Everyone agrees. There’s a quick debate about cars, because Stiles has his Jeep and that’s staying with him. Danny and Lydia are the only other ones with cars. Lydia ends up giving Derek her car, and she and Allison take Danny’s, and Stiles breaks more laws than he’d like to admit driving to Deaton’s.

The vet is as calm as usual when they come in, but he seems to notice their state of worry, because he puts down the papers he’s holding and looks at them.

“Scott was attacked,” Stiles doesn’t bother with small talk. He doesn’t have time. “He was hurt, and badly. But the pack bond was cut off, we can’t sense him at all. Derek says if he were dead, we’d have a new Alpha, and that’s not the case. We already know it can happen, since the witches came to town.”

Deaton frowns, looking as upset as Stiles has ever seen him. “There are several methods that can effectively cut off the bond. I don’t know all of them off the top of my head, but I can get a list together and send it to you. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Stiles blinks, because he knows when _he_ does research, it takes hours. But then, Deaton is druid and probably has all kinds of resources Stiles doesn’t have at his disposal. He shoves that thought aside and nods. “Yes, please. And thank you.”

Since there’s not much else they can do at the clinic, Stiles and Danny head back out to the Jeep. Stiles is trying to figure out what to do next when his phone starts ringing and he pulls it out to see it’s Allison.

“What’s going on?” he answers, putting it on speaker. Danny leans towards the phone, looking worried.

“My dad has some information,” Allison says, and she doesn’t sound happy about it. Stiles sighs.

“Okay, hang on,” he says, and dials Derek, adding him to the conversation. Derek answers immediately.

“What?” he sounds grumpy, and Stiles can just see the face he’s making.

“Get Isaac and put it on speaker,” Stiles says. “Mr. Argent has some info, apparently.”

It takes a few seconds, but soon everyone is on the phone and they wait for Chris to start speaking.

“There’s a group,” Chris doesn’t even bother with a greeting. “They travel the US looking for certain rare...they use the word ‘creatures.’”

Stiles can hear the disgust in his voice talking about this group and takes a moment to privately thank whatever deity is listening that they managed to get a somewhat decent and reasonable hunter on their territory instead of one like Kate or Gerard.

“They like to call themselves collectors,” Chris says. “They take whatever they’ve captured, and then they sell them to the highest bidder. Whoever wins gets to hunt them and kill them.”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Stiles blurts. “And you just let them do it?”

“We don’t _let_ them do anything,” Chris sounds angry. “The hunting community is dwindling, we don’t have the resources or the time to stop them, the best we can do is try to warn whoever’s territory they’re heading to next. Which is the only reason I know anything about this.”

Stiles feels bad for his accusation and forces himself to calm down. “You’re right, I’m sorry. That’s just messed up.”

“That’s an understatement,” Derek’s voice is more of a growl than anything else, and Stiles winces.

“The rumors didn’t get to me fast enough,” Chris says. “I got a call maybe an hour ago that they were heading after the True Alpha. They were trying to keep it quiet since they knew they’d be on my territory and they know I have an alliance with the pack. I thought I’d have a little bit of time and I was trying to call Scott to warn him, but he didn’t answer. I was just about to start calling around when Allison and Lydia came here.”

“Shit,” is all Stiles can say, and he closes his eyes for a second.

“We found where it happened,” Isaac says. “They dumped Scott’s bike in the woods. It’s trashed, like he crashed. There’s not much here, just faint scents. Definitely blood, Scott’s blood all over his bike. They cleaned up after themselves pretty well, we couldn’t find anything until we found Scott’s bike off in the woods a bit.”

“Do you have the scent of the...collectors?” Stiles asks, hesitating before using the word. It’s an accurate word, he supposes, but he can’t quite shake off the Mass Effect definition (which is not a helpful distraction).

“Maybe,” Derek’s the one to answer. “It’d be hard to pick out of a crowd, but we’d probably recognize it if we got another trail.”

Which is better than nothing, except they don’t have another trail, and they have no leads whatsoever. This is just looking better and better. Stiles resists the urge to slam his head into the steering wheel (hello deja vu) and asks, “Can you feel any magic?”

“No,” Derek sighs. “Magic is subtle, hard to pick out. Alphas are generally sensitive to it, Scott especially so, and I was pretty sensitive to it when I was an Alpha, but I’m not anymore.”

“Did you try howling?” Chris asks. “They can’t be too far out of town yet.”

“Besides, it would let Scott know we’re okay,” Stiles realizes. “He’s cut off from us, too. He might think something happened to us. Do it.”

Derek and Isaac don’t say anything, but a few seconds pass, and then over the phone, they hear the howls start. Stiles shivers. He remembers when Isaac had told him about other pack members being able to feel it when someone in the pack howls, but they’ve never tested it before. This is the first time Stiles has felt it. It feels eerily like someone is blowing on the back of his neck, and when he focuses on the feeling, he can sense Derek and Isaac in the feeling.

Stiles looks at Danny, who is making a face and rubbing the back of his neck. Stiles doesn’t want to laugh, he really doesn’t, but he lets out a snort anyway.

The howling stops, and the feeling goes away. They wait in silence for a couple of minutes, but nothing happens, and Stiles feels slightly sick when he breaks the silence. “Nothing?”

“No,” Derek sighs.

“Would he still hear it?” Allison asks. “He’s still our Alpha, right? So would whatever is blocking the bond block the howling, too?”

It’s quiet for a few seconds before Derek finally says, “No, I don’t think so. It would probably block the ability we’d have to locate him, but hearing the howling is a wolf trait, that’s not just the Alpha in him.”

“Chances are, they’ve got it so he _can’t_ howl,” Chris says. Stiles bites his tongue, hoping Chris doesn’t go into detail (he knows the hunters that took Derek restrained him so he couldn’t howl, and he really doesn’t want Derek to be set off right now). He breathes a silent sigh of relief when Chris says, “I think I can ask around for some info on the collectors. I can check my resources. We’ve built up our contacts again and most of them follow a code of honor similar to ours. They _should_ help out, since Scott’s innocent and out of respect of our alliance.”

Stiles lets out a slow breath. “Okay. Quick question. How likely is it that they’re going to come after the rest of us, specifically Lydia, Derek, and Isaac?”

Chris hesitates before saying, “I don’t think Derek or Isaac would set off their radar. No offense.”

“None taken,” Isaac says quickly.

“And they don’t usually do repeat business,” Chris says. “They don’t want to catch the attention of law enforcement. There’s a chance they’ve already left town.”

Stiles winces. He really hopes not. This will be hard enough without having to search the entire goddamn United States. “Do you think they did this time?”

Chris sighs. “If they have any brains, they wouldn’t have come after the True Alpha in the first place. No self-respecting hunter would go after someone who undoubtedly has a strong pack behind him. Especially considering the rumors going around.”

“What rumors?” Stiles has to ask.

“The rumors about this pack,” Chris says. “I...may have twisted some facts when telling others about the Gerard thing.”

“How so?” Stiles asks, wondering what the hell that even means.

“I said Gerard had killed Peter and kidnapped Derek and nearly killed another member of the pack, so Scott killed him,” Chris says matter-of-factly. “In the name of pack.”

“Why?” it’s Derek who asks the question.

Chris sighs again. “Scott has no kills on his record, which is what made him a True Alpha. But a lot of hunters thought it made him look weak.”

“You’re trying to protect us,” Stiles realizes. He doesn’t even know what to do with that. “Well.”

“I’m just upholding my end of the alliance,” Chris says, but he sounds somewhat uncomfortable. Stiles has so many plans running through his head with this, so many smartass remarks, but he holds them back. Now isn’t the time.

(But when they’ve rescued Scott, Stiles is going to have _so much fun_. He’s such an asshole.)

“So what do we do now?” Allison asks.

Stiles thinks for a second. “Derek, Isaac, stay where you are. Send me your location, then see if you can find any other clues, anything to get us a lead. Allison and Lydia, you two call Scott’s mom. She should know what’s going on, no more secrets, remember? And Danny and I are going to go talk to my dad, Parrish, and Cordova. Maybe we’ll have them investigate, put out an APB or something.”

“I’ll keep Allison and Lydia with me,” Chris says slowly, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to do this. Stiles agrees immediately, because he’s still worried about Lydia. The pack has been doing a lot of self-defense training and Lydia’s a pretty good shot, but Stiles would rather not risk it at all. He doesn’t need another member of the pack going missing.

He says goodbye and hangs up before turning the Jeep on and driving towards the sheriff’s station.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, in my defense, I've been moving and cleaning, and my brain does not want to cooperate. But I am sorry for taking so long to update.
> 
> This chapter is kind of a filler chapter, and it's kind of shorter than I meant it to be. I'm sorry! I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible!
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd because my usual beta has an important test to study for (and good luck to her on that!) and I just decided to post, so all mistakes you see in this one are entirely my responsibility and I apologize.

Scott is _pissed off._

The people who took him seem to find the fact that he’s stuck in a cage that’s far too small for him with _electrified_ bars and very slow-healing injuries is some kind of joke. They’ve taken turns sitting in the room with him, laughing and calling him ‘mutt’ and ‘dog.’ It makes Scott see red.

The collar on his neck is tight and irritating his skin and he can’t get it off no matter how hard he tries. He’s covered in his own blood. He’s still nauseated and his head is pounding. He’s dehydrated, he can feel it, and his leg still feels broken. His shirt and pants are both ripped and he’s cold, although he thinks that might be more from blood loss than anything else.

To make matters worse, he’s pretty sure he’s on the verge of a panic attack, because he still can’t feel his pack at all, and he doesn’t know if they’re okay. He doesn’t want to have a panic attack, he doesn’t even have the energy to do so, so he keeps fighting it back. It’s not working well.

He hears footsteps from the next room, and the door opens. He glares at the man and woman who walk through the door. He’s not letting them touch him, he doesn’t care what they do to him. He’ll bite them if they come too close.

“Calm down, mutt,” the man says, sneering at him. Scott feels his eyes flash red and the woman lets out a laugh.

“Oh, he’s so cute,” she says. “Are you sure we can’t keep him?”

Scott growls in response to that. The woman just gives him a smile that makes him shudder. He’s about to tell her to go to hell when he hears something. A howl.

No, _two_ howls, familiar and in perfect harmony. Derek and Isaac. Scott can’t hide his reaction to it, the relief that rushes through him to hear them, to know they’re okay. He opens his mouth to howl back, but before he even gets it out, the man pushes a button and any noise Scott was planning on making is choked back, turning into a scream of pain.

He doesn’t realize he’s unconscious until he starts to come around, and when he opens his eyes, he realizes someone’s got their hand in the cage. The top is off, and a woman is reaching down with a washcloth to clean him, he assumes. Scott doesn’t care.

He jumps at the woman, gets his claws into her arm, dragging them down. She shouts in alarm and Scott jumps up, forcing himself out of the cage and toward the door.

He’s stopped by a line of mountain ash. He lets out a growl, because he can get through it, but it takes a bit of time, and he doesn’t have any. He starts to push through it anyway, because he doesn’t have another choice.

He’s not surprised when the shock comes again and his legs give out on him. He falls face-first onto the floor and stays there. This burst of adrenaline has taken more out of him than he’d expected and he just doesn’t have the energy to fight.

He doesn’t even lift his head as the men drag him back into the cage and slam the top closed, locking it. He lays in the crumpled heap they dropped him in and closes his eyes, cursing the part of him that just wants to cry. His pack is okay, he heard them, they’ll come and rescue him and they’ll restore the pack bond, however it got interrupted.

For now he’s just got to wait and stay alive.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been a slow day for John, just a lot of paperwork, and he’s hoping to go home without an incident. It’s been a long and slow week, and he’s annoyed enough at having to come in on a Saturday. He just wants to go home and sleep, which is of course why Stiles walks in with Danny, both of them looking worried.

He’s been around the pack too much to not immediately recognize when they’re running on pack instincts instead of human ones. Stiles’s posture is identical to the one Scott usually takes when he’s acting as Alpha, and Danny is hovering way too close to Stiles. Clearly something is wrong, and John lets out a long and annoyed sigh before opening the door to his office and waving them in.

“What’s going on now?” he doesn’t mean it to sound as defeated as it does, but he gets a knowing grimace from Stiles anyway. Clearly he’s not the only one who doesn’t want to deal with this. Stiles has been in the station all summer, teaching John, Parrish, and Cordova about the supernatural and running them through everything they’ve dealt with and things he has secondhand accounts on. They’ve had him going through old cases and he’s identified several as supernatural cases. John is partially proud and partially annoyed that he had to learn through Stiles (he’s learning to get over it; Stiles is very well-versed in the supernatural world).

“Are Parrish and Cordova here?” Stiles asks. “We’ve got a situation and it would be easier if I can tell you all at the same time.”

John sighs and goes out to track them both down. He finds them both sitting at their desks and says, “Code Canid.”

It’s a code they’d come up with for the supernatural. Since their closest links to the supernatural world were werewolves, Stiles thought it would be funny to refer to the scientific name of the family that wolves were a part of. It stuck, and now any time there are ears around that don’t know everything, they use it. It usually means long hours, too much coffee, and lots of headaches all around.

Parrish looks up from the paperwork he’s doing and just raises an eyebrow. Cordova lets out a long sigh and stands up.

“What kind?” he asks, grabbing his coffee.

“Don’t know yet,” John says, running a hand through his hair. “I believe we’re about to get a sitrep.”

Parrish snorts as they walk to John’s office and says, “When it comes to Code Canid, who is higher ranked? You or Stiles?”

“I am,” John raises an eyebrow. “He just happens to be more informed than me.”

Parrish just gives him a grin as he opens the door to his office. Stiles is pacing in a circle around Danny, who just gives John a helpless look. John just shakes his head and grabs Stiles’s arm as he passes him. Stiles spins and stops, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” he says. John shakes his head.

“What’s going on?” he says as Parrish shuts the door behind him.

Stiles takes a deep breath and launches into the story. He’s clearly anxious, but his voice is steady and he gets through it without straying off topic. That doesn’t make it any easier to listen to. Hearing that Scott’s been captured and is to be sold to people who want to kill him isn’t something John has ever expected and he’s horrified that he’s hearing it. He hopes to never hear it again.

“So they don’t think he’s human, then?” Parrish asks when Stiles is done, looking like he feels slightly sick.

Stiles snorts, a bitter and angry sound. “No. Some hunters assume that when you’re bit, you give up your humanity. Doesn’t matter _how_ it happened.”

“How many werewolves are killed by hunters?” Parrish asks.

Stiles frowns. “I don’t know. You’d have to do a lot of research, and you’d have to know the reasons behind the killings, because there _are_ some werewolves that have no mercy and think themselves better than humans. There are hunters that are the same way. Then there are the ones who are only sticking to their codes and only killing those who have killed innocent people. And then you get the falsely accused,” Stiles waves a hand. “It’s a lot of work.”

Parrish looks like he’s going to explode in frustration, but he just sighs and nods. Cordova leans forward and says, “What information do we have?”

“At the moment?” Stiles shrugs. “Not much. We know they were in the area approximately an hour and a half ago, we know Scott was on his bike and where it happened. Isaac said it looked like he crashed, and it had Scott’s blood on it. We know that Scott’s cut off from the pack, that he didn’t answer when Isaac and Derek howled. He’s likely injured and restrained somehow. We’re pretty sure he’s alive, because we don’t have a new Alpha. We don’t know if they’re still in the area, when this ‘auction’ is going to take place, what the names of the collectors are, or how to find them.”

“So what’s your plan?” John asks, recognizing the irritated look on Stiles’s face. It’s the one that shows up when he’s confronted with a problem he can’t fix.

Stiles sighs. “Right now it’s just to get as much information as we can. Deaton’s researching the ways the pack bond can be cut off, Argent is gathering info on the collectors. Derek and Isaac are trying to find any clues or scents they can. We’re updating everyone who should know. Until someone finds something, that’s really all we can do.”

He tilts his head, a thoughtful look on his face. “Actually. Hm.”

“What?” Danny leans forward, looking curious.

“They like to fly under the radar, right?” Stiles looks at John. “So what if we put them on it?”

John raises an eyebrow. “You want us to go investigate?”

Stiles bites his lip, looking conflicted for a second before he says, “Yes. There might be information you can get to that we can’t. And it’ll restrict them, corner them, maybe push them to go faster. If they go faster, they could make a mistake.”

“What if they’re not in the area?” Cordova points out. He has a troubled look on his face, but his eyes are narrowed, like he’s thinking it through and not really liking what he’s coming up with.

Stiles makes a face. “Then we keep an ear out. We’ve got contacts now, we can spread the word.”

“What if pushing them to go faster means they kill Scott?” Danny says softly.

Stiles shakes his head. “They’re not going to kill Scott. They’re in this for the money, and he’s a True Alpha. The first in centuries. He’ll bring them a lot of money.”

As much as John hates to admit it, Stiles has a point. He sighs and says, “So, how are we doing this?”

Stiles is quiet for a second, clearly contemplating before he says, “Anonymous tip?”

John nods. “That means you’ll have to get someone to call, you know.”

“Hey, Danny, wanna call?” Stiles turns to him. Danny sighs and nods, pulling his phone out and dialing the number. They wait for him to finish and then Stiles and Danny leave to go to the crime scene while John, Parrish, and Cordova wait for the call. Once they’re ready, they head out to meet them at the crime scene.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god you guys, I AM SO SORRY.
> 
> So essentially what happened was I just kinda got lazy? There were, you know, actual things involved in the procrastinating of this chapter, but nothing so important as to push it back this far. I honestly just kinda decided nah for a while and thus weeks passed and I am in a very dramatic mood.
> 
> Anyway, so here's the new chapter. I was rereading Making Sense of the Situation (part 5 of this series) and noticed a thing that really bothered me plot wise and addressed it in this fic. So that happens. I'm kind of just having some fun with this plot, to be honest, the collectors idea literally came a twisted tangent (alliteration for the win) I had in my head about Mass Effect (don't ask), and a desire to know more about the whole True Alpha thing because I want to know what exactly being a True Alpha means compared to regular Alphas.
> 
> Come yell at me on my [tumblr](http://the-bookkeepers.tumblr.com/) if I take too long to update again.
> 
> Beta'd by whatthehale (and you should all go check out her fics because they are amazing).

Derek watches the Jeep pull up behind Lydia’s car. He’s very carefully keeping his eyes off of the trashed bike on the ground next to him, and the red smears in the road. Looking at them will just make him want to be sick, so he’s ignoring their existence.

Unlike Isaac, who is staring at them like he can’t take his eyes off of them. Derek can feel his guilt through the bond, and has tried telling him it’s not his fault.

He won’t listen.

Stiles gets out of his Jeep as gracefully as he usually does. Danny’s exit is more smooth, and he spots the bike first. He freezes and stares at it, and even though he’s human and can’t smell the blood like Derek and Isaac can, he looks just as nauseous as Derek is.

Stiles doesn’t stop, even when he’s seen the bike and the blood. There’s a sharp intake a breath, a wave of panic that’s ruthlessly squashed, and then Stiles is standing in front of them. He opens his mouth to speak and is immediately interrupted by his phone ringing. He pulls it out and mutters a quick, “Oh, boy,” before answering it with a tense, “Hello?”

Derek’s confused until he hears Melissa McCall’s angry and worried voice from the phone. “What happening? Everything, Stiles.”

“Allison and Lydia were supposed to tell you everything,” Stiles runs a hand down his face. He looks drained for some reason, and that worries Derek. He doesn’t say anything, because he knows Stiles will just brush him off until this mess is over. It’s annoying, but Derek doesn’t exactly have room to speak.

“They told me Scott was attacked and most likely taken by hunters that will try to auction him off,” Melissa says. “That he’s injured and cut off from you guys. And now you’re going to tell me what you’ve found out.”

“We don’t know much,” Stiles admits, and he looks annoyed at that fact. “We found his bike, my dad, Parrish, and Cordova are going to investigate it. We’re still gathering information.”

“When you have some, you _will_ tell me,” Melissa says, and Stiles agrees quickly. She hangs up after that, right as Stiles’s dad pulls up in his cruiser. Parrish gets out and greets all of them. Cordova’s not behind them in another cruiser.

“Jesus,” John says as he spots the bike. Stiles makes a noise of agreement, his eyes unfocused like he’s deep in his thoughts. Derek watches him for a moment until Parrish asks him a question.

“Is there no scent trail?” he looks at Derek.

Derek shakes his head. “Not enough of one. We could follow his scent here because he went on his bike, but we were lucky to find the bike. It was pushed into the woods, and we only spotted it because of the blood and Scott’s scent disappearing. There _are_ other scents here, but they’re faint and unfamiliar. We’d probably recognize them again if we got another trail, or if they walked past us, but in a crowd we wouldn’t find it.”

Parrish nods, looking down at the bike. John’s bent over looking at the blood, inspecting it. Derek’s not sure what he’s looking for. The blood is faint, like the hunters had cleaned up after themselves. Derek doesn’t know how they had time to do that. He assumes lots of practice.

Stiles starts for some reason and says, “Uh. Derek?”

“What?” Derek asks, not liking the look on Stiles’s face.

“Didn’t you and Scott work on making the bond his anchor?”

Derek nods, and then grimaces. Isaac swears under his breath. Even Danny winces.

“But he’s cut off from you guys,” John’s straightening up.

“Yeah, exactly,” Stiles sighs. “Which means he has no anchor.”

“What does that mean?” Parrish asks, looking both interested and like he doesn’t want to know.

“It means he could lose control,” John supplies. “How bad?”

Stiles looks at Derek. “Where on the spectrum does he fall?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, wondering when the hell he became the expert for this. “I don’t think he’ll completely lose control. He’s still an Alpha, he’s still _our_ Alpha, some small part of him is probably aware of that. The pack bond isn’t the only way an Alpha is aware of their pack.”

Stiles looks very much like he’s going to quiz Derek later. Derek decides to use that as leverage to make Stiles sleep and eat, and continues. “Scott’s control has improved a lot. There are factors against him, but I think he’s still got control, at least a bit. He won’t bite anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Stiles nods. “If only because he’d rather die than turn someone else into a werewolf against their will. Which is a happy thought. I’ll shut up.”

Stiles’s phone starts ringing again, and he lets out a huff of annoyance and answers it. “Hello?”

“Hello,” It’s Deaton, and he sounds just as calm as ever. “I have that information you requested.”

Stiles puts his phone on speaker and says, “Lay it on us.”

“There are a couple different ways to cut off the pack bond,” Deaton doesn’t even ask who is with them. Derek’s not surprised. “A spell, which is what was used on you, Stiles, that requires a lot of power and an intimate knowledge of pack dynamics. An old ritual that has to be done during a total lunar eclipse is another. Certain charms can dampen them if they’re made correctly with the right ingredients, but they don’t cut them off completely. And there are runes that can be used, and those work similarly to mountain ash in that to make them work, you have to believe they will.”

“That’s it?” Stiles asks, and he sounds somewhat surprised.

“I’m sure there are a few ancient spells and rituals that could do it, too,” Deaton says. “But they’d have to be translated from dead languages first.”

“Then it’s most likely the runes, right?” John says, and Stiles nods.

“How would they know about the runes?” Danny asks.

Derek frowns. This sounds familiar, and he’s trying to remember why. “Runes...I think I’ve heard of them. I don’t know why, though.”

In fact, they remind him of Peter. He ignores the tight feeling of grief in his stomach, and concentrates on the thread of a memory before it can disappear completely. He shakes his head. “I can’t remember.”

“Sounds like we need to start asking around,” Stiles says. “Maybe Cora will know?”

Derek shrugs, but doesn’t protest. He waits until Stiles is pulled away by his dad to pull out his phone and dial the number.

She answers on the second ring. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Do you remember anything about runes that cut off the pack bond?” Derek blurts it out, and realizes that probably wasn’t the smartest idea. He should have explained what was going on first.

“Are you guys ever out of trouble?” Cora sighs. “Uh, I guess I kind of do? Didn’t Peter talk about them, that one time he and Mom went off to help out a nearby pack that was being attacked?”

“He said one of their pack members had been taken and put in a circle of runes,” Derek remembers now. He’d _hated_ the idea that they could be cut off from each other, that that power was in someone’s hands. He still hates it. “That’s right. I couldn’t remember.”

He can hear the silence from Cora and knows she’s dying to ask, so he just sighs and volunteers the information. “Scott. He’s missing, attacked. We think he’s injured, but he’s cut off from us, and we know very little about who took him.”

“Jesus,” Cora says quietly. “Do you guys need any help, or anything? Research? Back up? Money? Secret identities? To be smuggled out of the country?”

She’s only half-kidding. Derek has to let out a small laugh. “That might be a bit drastic. Can you ask your pack, see if any of them know much about the runes? Like how someone learns them, or where they come from?”

“I can do that,” Cora says. “And Derek, if you guys need anything else, don’t hesitate to call. I’m serious.”

“I know,” Derek says. “Thanks. We’ll keep you updated.”

“Okay,” Cora says. “Good luck.”

Derek hangs up and looks around. Danny’s standing near him, on the phone with what sounds like Allison, Lydia, and Chris. Stiles is standing next to his dad, and they’re talking about likely hiding places in the area. Parrish and Cordova are standing back a bit, both of them looking over the area. Isaac’s sat on the ground next to Scott’s bike, playing with the bottom of his shirt. Derek takes a step towards him, but then Danny calls for Stiles. Derek freezes, caught between wanting to know and wanting to comfort Isaac.

Isaac solves the problem for him by standing up and walking over to Danny. He stands right next to Derek, and if he moves a little closer than he normally would stand, Derek doesn’t mind.

Stiles positions himself on Derek’s other side, putting Derek directly on his right and Derek blinks in surprise. He didn’t know Stiles considered him his second when he’s (in his own words) substitute Alpha. That comes as a surprise, and a nice one at that (even if he doesn’t want to be Stiles’s second, because he doesn’t want Stiles to have to be Alpha).

“Mr. Argent has heard of the runes,” Danny says, holding the phone out in the middle of the circle the group’s created. Derek’s sure they look suspicious as fuck, but luckily no one’s on the road they’re standing on the side of.

“Really?” Stiles looks hopeful. “How?”

“It’s a method used by some of the more traditional hunters,” Chris says, and Derek really, really, really hates hunters, he really, really does. “Gerard knew them. Kate knew them. I know them. I’ve never used them, and I saw no reason to pass them onto Allison. Generally the wolves we hunted down didn’t have a pack strong enough to create the bond, and therefore it wasn’t needed.”

Derek appreciates the use of past tense in that sentence. “That makes sense given what Cora and I remember. My mother and Peter once had to help a pack we had an alliance with; their pack member had been taken and forced into a circle of runes.”

“They used to be common knowledge,” Chris agrees. “Not so much anymore.”

“So that’s almost definitely the way they’re keeping Scott isolated,” Stiles says thoughtfully. “What other ways besides mountain ash can they use to contain a werewolf? Scott’s able to break through a line of mountain ash given enough time. Something to do with the whole True Alpha thing, we think. Wait, how would they know about that?”

“You’re not gonna like the answer,” Chris says slowly.

Derek clenches his teeth. “Deucalion.”

“Deucalion,” Chris confirms. “Remember what Stiles said, that night at the office building? Scott wanted to spread a rumor saying he was dead, and Stiles said it wouldn’t work because with Deucalion and the twins out there, chances are people already know his name.”

Derek’s memory of that night are hazy at best, considering the state he’d been in all night. He doesn’t remember this particular part of that night, although it might have happened when he was in the car, only half-listening just to make sure they were all still safe. He’d only started properly listening when Stiles had been upset, and so he thinks this happened before that. “That makes sense, though. Deucalion knew beforehand, thanks to Morrell, and those witches knew.”

“No, they didn’t,” Isaac says. “They knew _of_ the True Alpha, where they were and which pack they were part of, but they didn’t know _who_ it was. Remember?”

“No,” Stiles says grumpily. Derek nudges his arm.

“See, that never made sense to me,” John says slowly. “Because they’d been watching you. And you said that they’d taken Stiles because of his position in the pack, right? So how could they have known that Stiles was Scott’s second if they didn’t know Scott was the Alpha?”

“Not to mention while in the barn, they hurt both Derek and Isaac but only blinded Scott,” Allison adds.

“He thought he was blinded because he was in front and didn’t get his eyes closed in time,” John nods. “But maybe that’s not what happened. Maybe it was a spell intended for him.”

“So they knew the whole time which one of us was Alpha?” Derek didn’t know it was possible for him to get a headache, but it definitely feels like one is coming on. “Why pretend they didn’t, then?”

“To make Scott cooperate?” John suggests. “Maybe they had a plan in place. Maybe the blood had to be taken voluntarily.”

“Maybe they were sadistic and twisted,” Isaac mutters.

“I’ve forgotten the point,” Stiles says.

“That they probably knew who Scott was and didn’t tell us for some unidentifiable reason,” Lydia says.

“Oh,” Stiles nods even though she can’t see it. “Didn’t you say that you’d spread rumors about us, though?”

“I didn’t mention Scott’s name,” Chris replies.

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be that hard to find out,” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes. “Especially if they have someone good with computers with them. If they can access the police reports, they’ll know that Scott was brought in as a suspect. That would have given them all the information they needed, since his address would have been on file, wouldn’t it?”

John nods. “And if they had access to those, they could have seen the picture of Scott Dubois described to the sketch artist. They would have known his name, address, and appearance before ever stepping foot in Beacon Hills.”

“That’s if they didn’t already know from Deucalion and the twins,” Stiles says.

“My contact says they got their info from Deucalion,” Chris says.

“Which means he’s still an ass,” Isaac says. Derek rubs his forehead and wonders if they would have been better off killing Deucalion.

Probably not. But he’s allowed to think it anyway.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

His question is met with silence. No one seems to have any idea, and that doesn’t make Derek feel better. If anything, it makes him want to punch something.

Luckily, before he can act on that impulse, Parrish clears his throat and says, “Um, Chris? How informed is your contact?”

“He’s related to one of the collectors,” Chris says. “His info is accurate, I cross-referenced him with some other hunters I trust.”

“Would he be able to get us information on the date of the...auction or whatever?” Parrish asks.

“I’m not sure how much warning we’ll have, but yes, he’s told me he can tell me it,” Chris answers.

Parrish nods. “Then I have an idea.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it didn't take me two weeks this time! I think. I'm pretty sure.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is a lot of planning and there's some things in it that I just think are funny. I think I'm pretty funny, so.
> 
> Also, I don't know if you guys really care but if you like my stuff, you should go check out Visible Noise. It's another Sterek fic that I've been working on for a long time and I'm really proud of it.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://the-bookkeepers.tumblr.com/) in case I take too long to update again.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [whatthehale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale)!

Allison taps her foot impatiently, leaning against the door of Stiles’s house. Parrish had said he’d had an idea, and then her dad’s phone _and_ the sheriff’s phones had gone off. It was a sudden reminder that this wasn’t all that they had going on in their lives, and though it was urgent, there were other things they couldn’t put off. Stiles had then decided for everyone to meet at his house at six for them to discuss and plan.

It’s only four, but Allison is not staying at her house for another second longer, she doesn’t care what Stiles has to say about it. She understands that Lydia could be at risk and that she can help her dad gather information, but she does not have the ability to be sidelined for very long. Especially not when her _boyfriend_ is the one in danger. She knows Stiles understands how she’s feeling, and he has absolutely no room to talk, considering how he’d acted when Derek was missing.

Lydia’s standing next to her, calmly typing something out on her phone. Allison doesn’t know what, but Lydia’s been working on it for what feels like hours now. She won’t answer any questions about it, and Allison can’t decide to be irritated or curious.

She’s distracted from watching Lydia when Stiles’s Jeep comes down the street. Lydia’s car is right behind it, which means the rest of the pack is here. Allison is glad she’d demanded that they come over early, because otherwise they’d be left out.

Stiles doesn’t look surprised to see them, and he says, “Good, you’re already here,” as he walks up to the door. Allison raises an eyebrow and, not for the first time, wonders if Stiles does this on purpose or if he just makes everything up as he goes along. Sometimes she’s convinced one way and then he does something that tips the scale again. It’s very frustrating.

It’s part of why she gets along with him so well, she thinks.

Danny seems to be deep in thought as he comes up to them, and doesn’t even look at them until he nearly walks into Allison. He blinks in surprise and backs up, looking somewhat confused.

“You okay?” Allison asks. Danny nods, his lips thin. Allison isn’t convinced. Danny’s the newest to the supernatural world and to the pack. This is all very overwhelming and stressful, and he isn’t used to the constant threats in the same way that the rest of them are. He’s still adjusting to the way their lives work.

And what a depressing thought that is. Allison makes a face.

Derek presses past them to stand as physically close to Stiles as possible, although he’s facing all of them. His face is carefully neutral, and if Allison didn’t know him so well she’d think he was perfectly fine. But since they’re pack, and she’s been paying attention, she can see the obvious tension in his posture, the way he’s got one hand behind his back, tangled in Stiles’s shirt, and the way he’s carefully watching over their heads at the street for any possible threats. He keeps glancing at Isaac, too, and that directs Allison’s attention to him.

Isaac’s nervously playing with the hem of his shirt, and seems to be hunching down on himself, the way he’d used to when he didn’t want to be noticed. Allison focuses on his emotions through the pack bond and is somewhat surprised to find guilt there. She thinks she should have expected this. Derek had said Isaac was Scott’s bodyguard, so he’s probably viewing this as his fault, even though it isn’t. She doesn’t think he’ll listen if she says anything.

The pack shares that trait.

Stiles pushes the door open and trips as he walks in. Derek’s hand in his shirt is the only thing that keeps him up, and Allison has to hide a grin as Derek pulls Stiles upright. It feels somewhat wrong to be amused at a time like this, but she supposes she has to stay sane somehow, and laughing at her pack’s antics is a good way to do that.

Everyone relaxes when Isaac shuts the door behind them, and for a second they just stand there looking at each other before Stiles says, “So!” and breaks them all out of the trance.

He gives them all an apologetic look and continues. “So Parrish is going to be here as fast as possible, and he’s got a plan that probably none of us are going to like because this situation sucks. My dad and Cordova will be with him, but they’re both still on duty, so God only knows how long they’ll manage to be here. Melissa’s coming because I promised we’d keep her in the loop. Deaton’s coming because we might need him. Allison’s dad is coming because he’s our best source of information at the moment. And I am hungry as fuck. I am ordering Jimmy Johns.”

He wanders off in the direction of his bedroom. Allison raises an eyebrow, but Lydia voices it first.

“Is he okay?” she asks.

Derek grimaces. “He hasn’t been sleeping well. It’s not unusual for either of us, but the situation doesn’t help. And he doesn’t like being ‘Substitute Alpha,’ so he’s stressed.”

Allison nods. That’s understandable. None of them want Stiles to have to be Alpha, either. Not because he’s bad one (Allison actually thinks Stiles would be a great Alpha if he put his mind to it), but because they want Scott back.

Stiles comes back down with his laptop before anyone can continue the conversation. There’s a pause when they realize they don’t need Scott’s order and everyone tenses up before Stiles hits the table with his fist, scaring them all, and finishes the order. Then he stands up and starts pacing and after a few seconds of watching him, Allison joins him. She walks parallel to him, never making their paths cross, and the movement feels good.

Everyone else makes themselves comfortable in their own way. Lydia goes back to typing on her phone, only glancing up occasionally to look at everyone. Danny slumps back on the couch, his arms crossed, deep in thought again. Isaac sits next to Danny and moves closer than humans usually do, and resumes playing with the bottom of his shirt. Derek sits on the chair, his body still tense, and watches Stiles with a careful intensity.

Allison knows when the food gets there by the werewolves looking up and at the door, and Stiles takes his cue from them, heading to the door before the delivery person can even ring the doorbell. He opens the door almost immediately after it’s rang and signs quickly before taking the food in and placing it on the kitchen table. Allison and the others follow him, and they all take their sandwiches.

No one moves to eat them. They unwrap them, and look at them, but no one picks them up, and after a few seconds, Stiles puts his head down on the table.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans.

“Amen,” Danny mutters, and Allison holds back the laugh that follows that. She’s not the only one; Derek’s lips definitely twitch, and Lydia covers her mouth with her hand. Stiles mutters something too quietly for Allison to hear that makes Derek groan and put his head down on the table, too.

“What?” Allison asks Isaac, who looks stumped.

“He said, ‘Walking in a winter wonderland?’” Isaac looks confused.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Lydia demands.

“It’s a long story,” Stiles doesn’t bother to raise his head. Allison wonders if she wants to know or not. She decides she does and leans forward.

“Tell it.”

Stiles sighs. “Once upon a time, Scott’s parents had a dinner where they told him they were getting a divorce. Scott locked himself in his room, I came over later, and he wouldn’t let me in the room, so I sat outside it singing ‘Winter Wonderland’ to annoy him until he opened the door. And now it’s my tension breaking song. Huh. Relatively short story, I guess. Felt longer at the time.”

“That damn song is still stuck in my head from the last time you used it,” Derek complains, raising his head and pulling his sandwich toward him.

Stiles snorts. “It’s forever stuck in my head. Good luck.”

“Oh, my God, just eat your sandwich,” Derek says before taking a bite.

“You’re so bossy,” Stiles says as he brings his head up too.

“I learned from the best.”

Stiles squints at him. “I hear your sarcasm, dude, that’s not appreciated.”

Allison shakes her head and picks up her own sandwich. Listening to Stiles and Derek banter feels normal, and she relishes what normal there is as she finishes her sandwich and gets antsy again.

Stiles still hasn’t touched his sandwich when Allison gets up to throw away the trash, desperate for something to do. Derek begins to try and make Stiles eat the sandwich, and Allison decides her skills are not needed and goes back to pacing in the living room. Lydia, Danny, and Isaac follow. They can still hear Stiles refusing to eat the sandwich and it takes Derek threatening to call his dad to convince Stiles to eat.

He finishes quickly and comes and joins Allison in pacing again. Isaac’s watching both of them with Derek and Danny is staring at the ceiling. Lydia’s back to working on her phone.

They’ve just started to relax again when Derek and Isaac both turn towards the front. Stiles is there in an instant, and relaxes.

“It’s your dad, Allison,” he calls as he opens the front door. Allison relaxes, too and gets up to greet her dad with a hug.

He’s tense, but hugs her back, and comes into the living room with her. Stiles has stopped pacing and is instead sitting with (well, on) Derek in the chair, apparently calmed down enough to sit still for a while. Allison resumes pacing as Deaton arrives.

Melissa comes in right after the vet, and she looks nervous and angry. She glances around, doing a head count of the pack members, and when she hit six instead of seven, her face crumples for a second and Allison has to look away.

Parrish is next, out of uniform and all, and he looks apprehensive. He’s got a pen in his hand for no discernable reason, and keeps twirling it. It’s caught the attention of Isaac, who watches it instead of Allison, and Allison finally stops pacing and goes to stand next to her dad.

John and Cordova show up five minutes later, both in uniform with their radios. Stiles notices and says, “That’s everybody. Let’s hear this plan of yours.”

Parrish clears his throat and nods. “Well, we have no idea where they are right now, and no way to draw them out. We’ll know when the auction is, but chances are a straight on attack is a bad idea, right?”

Chris nods. “There will be several protections, most noticeably against werewolves in this case. Chances are it’ll be warded against magic, too, and a couple of them will probably be guarding. The auction will be in an isolated place, no doubt, and we won’t have a chance to scope out the place beforehand.”

“Then we’ll just have to sneak some of us in and bid on him ourselves,” Parrish says.

It’s quiet for a minute, before Stiles says, “It’s a viable plan, even if I don’t like the idea of having to bid on my best friend.”

“It’ll be difficult to pull off,” Chris says. “It relies on too many factors. What if we get out-bid?”

“Inconceivable,” Stiles declares. “We have Derek.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “My fortune isn’t endless, you know.”

“You’re just ruining all my fantasies right now, I hope you know,” Stiles tells him. John sighs.

“What if Scott’s in bad shape and can’t control his reaction to us?” Chris continues.

Stiles frowns and shakes his head. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take.”

“We shouldn’t send pack in,” Allison says carefully. “If we go in, it’ll be harder for him to control himself even if he isn’t in bad shape.”

Stiles makes a face, but he nods. “They probably know all of us already anyway.”

“I can’t go, either,” Chris says. “I’m too recognizable. Dr. Deaton, too. They’ll probably know the sheriff and Melissa, too, due to relations.”

“So that leaves me and Parrish,” Cordova says slowly, and Allison watches the two of them look at each other. It takes less than a second for them to both nod and look at Chris.

“What do we need to do?” Cordova asks.

“Your covers will have to be extensive,” Chris says. “I can forge most of the documents -- sorry, sheriff -- but I won’t be able to make IDs in time.”

“Couldn’t you guys provide one?” Allison asks, looking at John. “Don’t you guys do undercover work?”

“We’d have to write a report,” John shakes his head. “Which would mean explaining why we’re doing it, which means faking a police report. I may be sheriff, but I can’t break all of the rules.”

“We’re not supposed to use police resources when breaking the law,” Stiles helpfully adds. Allison raises an eyebrow at him.

“Danny, you had a fake ID,” John says, completely ignoring his son, and Danny blinks at him before nodding. “Where did you get it?”

Danny freezes and very, very slowly, turns his head to look at Stiles.

Who has maneuvered so he’s mostly hidden from view by a irritated and amused Derek. The room is completely silent, and Allison feels the urge to laugh at how ridiculous this feels at this moment in time.

“Stiles,” John says.

“Yeah?” Stiles doesn’t move out from behind Derek.

John looks at the ceiling like he’s praying to the high heavens for patience and says, “We’ll talk about it later. Can you make the IDs or not?”

Stiles peeks out. “Um. If I say yes, how dead am I?”

“That depends on how many you’ve made before,” John raises his eyebrows. “And how many of them you’re _not_ going to make after this.”

Stiles sighs. “Yes, I can make them, I can have them ready by tomorrow. I need all the info and like forty bucks. Wait, I have forty bucks. I need the info.”

Allison shakes her head. She hadn’t known Stiles made fake IDs, and she’s kind of glad she didn’t. Isaac and Lydia both look intrigued, however, and Derek looks torn between amused and exasperated. Danny looks like he wants to sink into the floor.

With that figured out, they start hashing out a plan for what the rest of them will be doing. Allison feels relief that runs through the rest of the pack at having a plan ready to set in motion, and the dread that comes with resigning themselves to the ‘hurry up and wait’ stage of plans.

Allison’s dad goes back to their apartment once it’s clear they’re done, and Deaton leaves, too. Parrish decides to go get himself some food and then go home, and Cordova and John are still on duty, so they leave. Melissa settles down at the kitchen table with a book, and the pack takes over the living room. Allison’s settled between Lydia and Isaac on the couch with Danny on the end. Stiles and Derek are still on their chair, and they put in a movie and start watching.

It doesn’t do much to distract them, but it was worth a shot.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so good at this, really, guys, so good at staying consistent with updates. Blah.
> 
> I apologize for the wait for this chapter, I was stuck and ended up scrapping the original plotline I had for this and coming up with a new one because the old one did not want to be written. So you'll have to bear with me, because I no longer have an outline, although I have a general idea of where it's going. Also, thanks to the new trailer making it seem like Derek's in the same kind of situation Scott's in in this fic, I'm just sitting here laughing at that. So.
> 
> Also LET US CELEBRATE DANNY GETS HIS FIRST POV OF THE SERIES IN THIS CHAPTER! That leaves Lydia, who I keep putting off. I'll fix that soon, I promise.
> 
> (Side note: Have you all noticed how completely useless Scott and Stiles's fake IDs are? Scott's says he was born in 2001, and Stiles's expired in 1990. [What the hell.](http://the-bookkeepers.tumblr.com/post/88355642036/look-how-fucking-useless-these-ids-are))
> 
> Beta'd as usual by [whatthehale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale) (and please go read Settle Down you guys it's so good).
> 
> My [tumblr](http://the-bookkeepers.tumblr.com/) where if it's been two weeks and I haven't uploaded you should totally send me a message asking me what the hell I'm doing because chances are I've just spaced it. 
> 
> Also, thank you for all the kudos and reads and comments and bookmarks! You guys are awesome!

The lonely feeling is what bothers him the most.

It’s not like Scott’s unused to feeling alone. After all, his parents are divorced and they both work long hours. Not to mention, until their sophomore year, Stiles was Scott’s only friend, and they couldn’t spend all their time together, especially after Stiles’s mom died. He’s spent plenty of time alone, and not always by choice. He didn’t like the feeling, though he’d dealt with it.

That was before he had a pack, though. Before he was a werewolf, before he was an Alpha, before he had this family that he’d somehow created. Before he’d gotten used to being able to sense them and know that all of them are safe. He hadn’t felt lonely in a long time, not since before the fight at the distillery where he’d become an Alpha. He’d called Stiles first and Stiles had answered, and though Scott didn’t realize it at the time, that action had cemented Stiles’s place in Scott’s pack, Stiles’s presence becoming a constant hum through the pack bond. He’d added the others in one by one after that, stabilizing his pack. It was impossible to feel lonely when he could sense the others.

Hearing the howls earlier had allowed Scott to stave off the panic back momentarily, but as time passed by and the hunters come in and out of the cabin, his anxiety started to build up. The cage is too small for him, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from attacking the bars. He still won’t let them clean him up, and after the third time of attacking one of them, they’d pulled back after shocking him once again into unconsciousness. The darkness doesn’t last long enough for them to clean him up, he thinks, because he always come to in the middle of it, and apparently they don’t want to kill him because the man who seems to be in charge yells after the third round of shocks.

“He’s able to heal from most things, but not if you exhaust him to the point where he can’t!”

Scott hasn’t decided if that’s a relief or not.

His leg’s still broken, he’s pretty sure. He’d aggravated the injury during his escape attempt, and now any time he moves it, there’s a fresh wave of agony. It’s not the only injury that isn’t fully healed; his head is pounding and has been for what feels like hours. He doesn’t know what to do about it. He needs energy to heal, and he needs food, sleep, and water to get energy. The hunters don’t seem inclined to give him anything to eat, although he can smell when one of them comes back with pizza.

He doesn’t exactly know what’s going on. He’s heard the hunters arguing over starting bids, and it took him a while to realize that they were talking about _him_. He assumes that means they’re planning on selling him. He doesn’t know how or to whom. Once they’ve got a starting bid ($300,500, apparently, because “True Alphas only come once every hundred years; the demand will be high!”), they start arguing over a date, time, and place, and it takes them some time to decide on Monday, at one-fifteen in the afternoon, in a _church_ of all places.

Scott doesn’t know the church, and he’s not entirely certain it’s in Beacon Hills. He thinks he’s still in Beacon Hills or at least close to it, because Derek and Isaac’s howls hadn’t sounded too far off. He can’t estimate the distance as easily as he’d done the last time Isaac had howled, but he thinks it’s twenty-five miles at the very least.

Not that that does anything for him. He’s still stuck in the cage. He suspects the collar around his throat has a tracker in it, anyway. He can’t get it off, not with his energy levels as low as they are, and scratching at it just sends another shock through him. He thinks it has something to do with him being cut off from the pack bond, but he can’t see it to inspect it, so he can’t figure out how it’s working.

He hears one of his captors in the other room call out for the man currently sitting in the room with him, and the man gets up and walks out, leaving the door open. Scott assumes they mean for him to hear what’s going on, and he doesn’t hesitate to listen in.

“We’ve got to get him presentable,” that’s the woman he first scratched. She sounds irritated, as if repeating something she’s said a million times.

“He fights back every time we go for it, and if we hurt him anymore, he might not recover,” that’s the man in charge. His tone warns against arguing, but it’s apparently a warning the others don’t heed.

“You’re both right. He can’t be covered in blood when we present him tomorrow, but he’s already not healing. We can’t push him too much further physically.”

“So what do we do?” the woman asks, sounding resigned.

“We motivate him,” says the man in charge, and Scott narrows his eyes at his tone. He’s not sure exactly what that means, but he doesn’t like the sound of it. “Remember the kid in the red hoodie?”

Scott freezes, feeling his heart sink. There’s only one person that could be. Stiles had owned that damn red hoodie before the werewolf mess and had kept it despite the joke it set up.

“Go get him.”

“No!” Scott can’t hold back the yell, although it comes out strangled and hurts his throat. He can’t let another member of his pack get hurt, he _can’t_ , he _can’t_. Especially because of him.

There’s no response to him from the other room, just the front door opening, and Scott feels his nausea return full force. There’s a moment, and then a man moves into Scott’s eyeline but doesn’t enter the room. He meets Scott’s eyes, and Scott growls, as loud as he can muster. The man doesn’t look impressed. He sits down on a chair and raises an eyebrow at Scott.

Scott doesn’t bother to glare again, just hopes to God that none of the pack are out and knowing his luck is probably not that good.

_Shit._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny grumbles as he follows Stiles out of the house to his Jeep. He’s annoyed at being awake before he’d wanted to be. He’s pretty sure he didn’t get to sleep until three in the morning, and he’s tired.

They’d been woken up at eight-thirty by Isaac jumping to his feet swearing loudly about having to go to work. Derek had started and had hurried out of the house, because _he_ had a shift, too. Lydia and Allison had followed them both out and promised to keep in touch with Stiles, and Stiles had gotten up and told Danny he was coming with him for the day again. Mainly because _someone_ had taken Danny’s car and left him without a ride.

He doesn’t mind that someone took his car, which is a disconcerting realization. He doesn’t mind because he knows it was someone in the pack, and he trusts them.

It’s weird.

He thought he’d been prepared to join the pack and help them out in emergencies, and be a part of the supernatural craziness that seems to surround Beacon Hills, especially after the Gerard Incident (as he’s taken to calling it in his head), and to a certain extent, he was. He was ready to help find people, ready to start the training the rest of them had started (the need for self-defense had only recently been realized, because apparently no one had realized the advantages of all of them knowing how to defend themselves in an emergency before now), ready to work his computer magic when they needed him to. Ready to know what was going on instead of being talked around and left out of important conversations, and ready to stop feeling like he’s constantly missing something.

He had _not_ been ready for what pack actually meant. There are instincts he hadn’t expected, protective instincts that seem to flare up when they’re being attacked. The inclination to follow Scott, the way he’d automatically deferred to Stiles when it became clear Scott was incapacitated. The way that he’d come to seek out the pack’s company when he was frustrated or upset, the way he wanted to comfort any other pack member who was miserable. The fact that he was so comfortable with all of them, even Derek, whom he’d barely known before he’d started dating Stiles. The pack bond, which without a doubt was the strangest thing he’d had to deal with since everything started. It was _weird_ , knowing how the others were feeling constantly and to know they knew how he was feeling.

He was getting used to it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t strange.

He’s not getting used to how the pack is far too relaxed by the fact that this is the apparently the third time this year they’ve been attacked (and it’s barely July). They’re not even surprised. Danny doesn’t know what to do with that, at all, except worry about their sanity and his own mortality.

“What are we doing?” he asks through a yawn as he climbs into Stiles’s Jeep.

“I gotta get the IDs,” Stiles answers, sounding like he’s annoyed Danny didn’t know that. “Thanks for that, by the way, my dad is going to kill me when this is over.”

Danny grimaces. He feels bad about that. “I’m sorry, I panicked?”

“Nah, don’t worry,” Stiles shrugs. “It was bound to come out eventually. Thank God I only made a few. I didn’t make mine, although I should have, because mine _sucks._ Instead I let Scott find someone to make ours, because I didn’t want to explain to my dad that I had made myself a fake ID.”

Danny snorts. “Mine’s a good fake, though, and Scott stole it back from the police. Do they know that?”

“You, my friend, are asking the wrong person,” Stiles says. “At least you didn’t tell them I made it back then. _God_ , that really would have put the cherry on top of that fucking shitty time.”

“That was when Jackson was the kanima, right?” Danny asks, trying to remember the rundown he’d been given. Hearing his best friend had turned into a giant personal murder lizard had Danny reevaluating his life.

“Yup,” Stiles says. He sounds more frustrated than anything. Danny doesn’t know why.

They pull up at a nondescript building on a side of town Danny doesn’t think he’s ever been to. He frowns and looks at Stiles, who isn’t looking at him.

“Stay in here,” Stiles says. “If I’m gonna have to stop making the IDs, I might as well not get these guys in trouble, too, and you shouldn’t get in trouble either.”

Danny raises an eyebrow, but Stiles is out of the Jeep before he can say anything, so he sits back and waits.

It’s forty-five minutes later when Stiles finally comes back out, and Danny’s half asleep until he hears the door open. He jerks upright and looks around wildly.

“Whoa, there,” Stiles says, and Danny relaxes. “I got them, we’re good to go.”

“Why did you have to come here?” Danny mumbles as he gets buckled again.

Stiles snorts. “I can’t keep the supplies to make IDs at my house, are you crazy? My dad would know immediately. I just come over and use the supplies that my friends offered.”

“Sometimes the fact that you’re the son of the sheriff feels like a very big punchline to a joke the universe is telling,” Danny tells him, staring at the ceiling.

“My entire life is a punchline to a joke the universe is telling,” Stiles snorts. “I need groceries.”

“Am I being recruited?” Danny asks.

“Do you have the keys to get into your house?” Stiles asks.

Danny blinks. “No, they’re on my car keys.”

“Then yes, you are being recruited.”

“Great.”

He nods off again as Stiles drives to the grocery store, only waking up when the Jeep stops and Stiles pokes him. He follows Stiles into the store, waving at Isaac, who is working the register, and pushing the cart fo Stiles.

They’re in the cereal aisle, with Stiles debating what kind of cereal he wants and Danny next to him, slowly nodding off when there’s suddenly a hand on his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” says a voice, and before Danny can react, something is shoved against his back, and Danny has a half a second to see Stiles’s eyes widening before there’s a painful jolt that rushes through his body.

It feels like a million needles are rushing through his body, and though his first response is to jerk away, to run, to _move_ , his body isn’t listening, he can’t move. The world tips sideways, and he can’t move to brace himself, can barely make out Stiles’s horrified face as he tries to move forward to catch Danny.

The impact with the ground _hurts_ , and he knows he hits his head from the way his ears start ringing. His body is exhausted, and his brain is scrambled, he can’t figure out what’s going on around him and what’s just going on inside him.

He can see Stiles, though, backed up against the shelves with a knife pointed at his chest, and two people -- a man and a woman -- are surrounding him. Danny doesn’t know what they’re saying, but Stiles is panicking, he can see that. There’s anger, confusion, and fear flowing down the pack bond, but Danny doesn’t have the ability to separate the emotions with the pack members. He doesn’t know what’s going on or what to do.

There’s a familiar growl, and that’s a welcome sound. It catches the attention of the man and woman, and Stiles takes advantage of their distraction to kick out desperately. He hits the man’s stomach and the man doubles over. Stiles pushes him away as hard as he can, causing the man stumbles a few steps backwards.

The woman advances on Stiles, but Isaac is suddenly just _there_ , wolfed out and standing in front of Stiles, who has slid to the ground and is reaching out for the knife the man dropped.

He doesn’t succeed. The man’s recovered, and he stomps down on Stiles’s fingers, and Stiles lets out a yell of pain that distracts Isaac, and Danny is trying his hardest to push himself up off the ground, but he doesn’t have the energy to.

The man reaches for the knife himself, still on Stiles’s fingers, but Isaac tackles him, and the man and Isaac go rolling away. Stiles tries to get up, but the woman pins him down, twisting his arm up behind his back and pressing her arm against the back of his neck. Stiles struggles, but apparently she’s got a good grip, because he can’t break free.

Danny can’t see Isaac from his vantage point, but he can hear the growls, and renews his efforts to get up, because Stiles is stuck and Isaac might need help.

There’s a huge crash and from what Danny can see, half the shelves are knocked down, and Isaac’s up and running down the aisle, tackling the woman off Stiles.

Stiles is up as fast as possible, and he hurries over to Danny, pulling him to his feet. Danny’s body isn’t really cooperating, but Stiles drags him along anyway, and a few seconds later, Isaac’s on Danny’s other side, lifting him so he and Stiles are practically carrying him. Danny can’t form words yet, can’t ask them if they’re okay, but there’s no blood as far as he can see, so he lets Stiles and Isaac carry him to the Jeep. They get Danny into the backseat the best they can and Stiles gives Isaac the keys to drive.

“What the _fuck_ was that about?” Stiles is nearly yelling as they speed out of the parking lot.

“That was them, they were the collectors!” Isaac says, and Danny tries to lean forward to join the conversation, but fails miserably. “Their scents, I recognize them.”

“What the hell were they doing attacking me and Danny?” Stiles sounds hysterical. That can’t be good.

“I don’t know, but I think I just quit,” Isaac says, and there’s a pause before Stiles and Isaac both start laughing. The laughter sounds unhealthy, but it’s there.

Danny feels the Jeep hit a bump and his head bounces against the window he’s propped against. He can’t help the groan that escapes him, and Stiles turns around and looks at him, obviously concerned.

“We should take him to the hospital,” Stiles says to Isaac, who nods.

“What happened?” Isaac asks.

“Stun gun,” Stiles grimaces. “He hit his head pretty hard, too, when he hit the ground. Anything else injured?”

Danny tries to shake his head, but only manages a quick jerk of his head before dizziness hits him. He groans again.

He feels his phone start to vibrate in his pocket and pulls it out clumsily. He nearly drops it, but Stiles catches it for him and he answers it, putting it on speaker.

“What the hell is going on?” Lydia’s voice sounds angry.

“Danny and I got attacked at the grocery store,” Stiles answers. “Isaac may have quit. Danny probably has a concussion. I think I have broken fingers. Thank God Isaac knows how to drive stick.”

“It was the collectors.” Clearly Isaac does not want to put up with Stiles’s tangents. “Danny’s hurt. They used a stun gun and he hit his head, so I’m taking him to the hospital. Someone needs to call Derek and make sure he knows to be on alert.”

“I’ll do it right now,” Allison says.

“We’ll have to call my dad, too,” Stiles says. “Because we made a mess out of the grocery store and he’ll no doubt hear about it. _Jesus Christ_.”

“What do we do?” Lydia asks, and Danny watches Stiles visually pull himself together. He lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair.

“Stay put for now,” he says. “God, this is such a fucking mess. Keep Derek and Mr. Argent informed, I’ll talk to my dad and Melissa. Keep your phones on, be careful. You should both be armed, just in case. The rules have changed for some reason, and we don’t know why.”

Lydia and Allison agree, and Stiles calls his dad as they pull up outside the hospital. That conversation is made up of Stiles promising he’s okay and trying to tell the story, occasionally interrupted by Isaac trying to give any details Stiles missed, and the sheriff threatening to pistol whip the collectors and promising to do the best he can to make sure they’re the ones who take the fall. Isaac doesn’t think it’ll be a problem, since there are security cameras everywhere.

“Why would they attack us if there are cameras everywhere?” Stiles asks, then answers himself. “They were expecting it to be easier. But why use a stun gun on Danny right away? That’s a crappy opening move if you want to be discreet.”

“Are the cameras monitored all the time?” the sheriff asks.

“No,” Isaac says. “They’re monitored off and on throughout the day, and used in case there’s a robbery. If no one was watching, it wouldn’t have been noticed.”

“Eventually, the Jeep would have been found, you would have requested the security footage, but God only knows how long it would have been,” Stiles sighs. “Why did they attack us, that’s my question?”

“Don’t worry about it for now,” John says reassuringly. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll head to the hospital and we’ll brainstorm, but until then, stay safe, stay together, and keep in touch, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles sighs again.

“Love you,” John says.

“Love-you-bye,” Stiles says and hangs up. Isaac and Stiles pull Danny out and support him into the ER, where Danny has a surreal sense of deja vu from the night Ethan had done the same and Scott’s mom had saved his life. He feels the weird pang of missing Ethan and feeling guilty for doing so, because of what he and Aiden had done. Scott had told him he was allowed to miss him without feeling guilty, especially because Danny hadn’t been in the know at the time, but he still feels wrong doing so.

“Hey,” Melissa appears in front of them. “What’s going on?”

Danny slumps against Isaac as Stiles fills her in. It’s a slow day, so Melissa takes Danny and Stiles right in and lets Isaac come with them. Danny lays back and lets Melissa fuss over him as Stiles and Isaac start to debate about how to handle the current situation. He’s tired enough that wanting to be close to his pack doesn’t weird him out, and he allows the comfort Isaac’s trying to give by being close to him.

He’ll worry about how not normal it is later. Right now, he’s tired.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, this story has been going very slowly but I promise you guys I've actually been picking up the pace, so hopefully the updates will go faster than before. Thanks for the messages on tumblr, and thanks for your patience. Again, I apologize.
> 
> Also, a lot happens in this chapter. So prepare yourself.

Isaac slumps in the chair next to Danny’s bed that he’s claimed. He’s finally coming down off the adrenaline, and that paired with the mostly sleepless night is enough to want him to fall asleep. He’s fighting it back, but he _really_ wants to take a nap or something.

Danny’s on the bed, answering the questions Melissa is asking, albeit slowly. He’s being kept overnight in the hospital because he has a concussion, and Isaac has already appointed himself as his bodyguard. Isaac wants to move closer to comfort him, but he’s not sure how Danny’s coping at the moment. All Isaac’s getting from the pack bond is exhaustion and the discomfort that means physical pain, so he’s resigned himself to just keep an eye out.

Stiles is there, too, pacing as usual. He’s holding his newly bandaged hands to his chest and looks to be deep in thought. Isaac can feel his anger and worry, along with a newfound determination and motivation. Isaac doesn’t know what that’s about, but it’s making him hopeful.

Derek hasn’t responded to any of the pack’s texts and calls explaining the situation. Isaac is well-acquainted with the emotions Derek projects when he’s on a call, the quiet urgency mixed with occasional bouts of real fear, so he knows Derek doesn’t have time to check his phone at the moment. He hopes to God that Derek will be able to soon, before anything happens to him.

Allison and Lydia are both impatient, and would be on their way to the hospital already if Stiles hadn’t shot them down more than once. He doesn’t want to risk them getting attacked on the way. There’s no guarantee that they won’t be attacked at the Argents’ apartment, but at least there they have the tactical advantage. Stiles is banking on Derek being safe because  his schedule is unpredictable and the fire station is a really bad place to stage an offensive attack. He’s mostly worried about himself and Danny, he told Isaac. They’ve already been attacked once, and the hospital is not a good place for a fight; Danny’s vulnerable, and Stiles is unarmed.

Isaac hates that the game has changed. The collectors attacked the only two members of the pack who were there by association and not because they’re directly involved in the supernatural world by being a creature or a hunter. It doesn’t make sense, and it’s got him even more on edge than he’d been before.

Stiles pulls out his vibrating phone and looks at it. He grimaces and says, “My dad is on his way here. He’ll have to take our statements. Yours and mine, I mean, he’ll probably need to wait on Danny’s because he’s not completely coherent.”

Isaac sighs. “How do I explain that I felt you and Danny freaking out over the pack bond and ran to help?”

Stiles just throws his hands up in annoyance. “I have no idea. My brain hurts. Ask my dad when he gets here.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow. That attitude is not like Stiles, not in an emergency like this, and it contrasts with the determination Isaac can feel, and that worries Isaac. He takes a second to really look at Stiles, and sees exhaustion. It’s there in his eyes, in the way he’s moving, in his posture. Derek had said Stiles wasn’t sleeping well, but Isaac didn’t know it was to this extent.

Melissa clears her throat then, and Stiles jumps like he’d forgotten she was there. Isaac hadn’t, but then he could also hear and scent her, so it’s probably not Stiles’s fault.

“Maybe you could just say Isaac heard something and decided to go check it out,” she says.

Stiles blinks slowly, then nods.“Yeah, go with that,” he says finally.

Isaac nods. “You should sit down. You look like you’re going to fall asleep on your feet.”

“When was the last time you slept?” Melissa asks, turning to Stiles.

“Last night,” Stiles says. It’s not exactly a lie (Isaac knows Stiles eventually crashed, he was asleep when Isaac woke up), but Stiles’s heartbeat quickens just the same.

“For how long?” Melissa doesn’t miss a beat.

“I don’t know, maybe an hour or so?” Stiles is definitely not looking at either of them now, and Isaac’s about to say something when Stiles’s phone starts ringing and he dives for it.

“Hello?”

“What room are you guys in?” Sheriff Stilinski’s voice comes over the phone.

“Room 122,” Stiles answers. “Melissa’s with us.”

“We’ll be right there,” the sheriff says, and he hangs up the phone. Stiles puts his phone in his pocket and goes to the door to open it.

Cordova is behind John, unsurprisingly, although Parrish doesn’t follow them. Isaac’s almost surprised until he remembers that despite what he sometimes thinks, they do have actual lives. They’re not always at work. He rolls his eyes at himself and sits forward as Cordova closes the door behind them.

“Nothing new happened?” John asks, as he not-so-subtly checks Stiles over to make sure he’s okay. Stiles doesn’t protest, just shakes his head.

“Nothing’s happened yet,” he said. “As far as we can tell. Allison and Lydia are still safe and Derek’s not responding to our texts, but he’s at work and doesn’t seem to be panicking.”

John nods. “Okay. Now the bad news. The collectors weren’t there when we got there.”

“What?” Stiles blinks in surprise. Isaac feels a surge of panic that he hurriedly pushes down. He can’t help but agree. They’d been counting on the fact that at least two of the collectors were out of commission, due to the fact that they were injured and about to be arrested.

This isn’t good news.

“There’s more,” John says. “ The collectors knew where the cameras were. They were careful. Fortunately, you knocked their faces into view when you fought, but otherwise, the cameras wouldn’t have shown their faces.”

“So they likely attacked the humans because there was less of a chance that we would fight back and win?” Stiles asks.

“They weren’t expecting me to be there,” Isaac nods, suddenly really glad he had been there. “They would have gone with the two of you and probably taken care of their scent the same way they did when they took Scott. We would have been left with four pack members and no way to track you.”

“Did you get their scent?” John asks. Isaac nods. He’d gotten quite a good whiff of the man while they’d been wrestling. He could still smell the woman on Stiles, so he had both their scents. Whether he could track them or not, that was another story.

Stiles is making a face, so it’s possible he already knows this. “They’re injured. Isaac definitely got a few good hits on them. Obviously not as good as we originally thought, but I didn’t think they followed us out of the store. We didn’t have anyone following us.”

“There’s video of them leaving the store out the back door,” John says. “We think they had a car waiting for them, but it wasn’t caught on camera.”

“Great,” Isaac grumbles.

“How long after we left?” Stiles asks.

“About the time you were on the phone with me,” John says. Stiles frowns, but nods.

“So, basically, we’re still sticking with the plan, because we don’t really have any other leads,” Cordova says.

“Speaking of, do you have the IDs?” John asks. “Parrish has the overnight shift and it’s apparently safer for us to go across town than it is for you guys, so I’ll bring it to him.”

“Yeah, they’re in my Jeep,” Stiles says. “I can go get them.”

“Don’t go alone,” Isaac speaks up. He can’t go with, he’s protecting Danny, but Stiles was attacked too and he’s still unarmed.

“I’ll go with him,” Cordova offers. Isaac relaxes a bit and nods. Stiles goes to the door and waits for Cordova to follow him before leaving.

“So no other information?” John asks. Isaac shakes his head.

“Mr. Argent said he’ll call us as soon as he gets the information about the auction,” he says. “And we’ll call you. Other than this attack, nothing’s changed.”

John frowns. “Why _did_ they attack these two? Chris said they didn’t do repeat business, and they’re both human. Right?”

“Right,” Isaac nods. “They used the stun gun on Danny and then pulled a knife on Stiles, according to him. I didn’t get there until after Stiles started fighting back. Danny was already on the ground and the man was doubled over.”

“Yeah, I saw the video,” John looks strangely proud. “Danny didn’t have a chance to fight back, they snuck up on him.”

“Why would they use a stun gun on Danny and then threaten Stiles?” Melissa asks.

Isaac narrows his eyes. “They could have just threatened Danny. Stiles would have done whatever he could to protect Danny. But they just left Danny lying on the ground. They didn’t even bother going back to him at all.”

“Some sort of weird power play?” Melissa suggests.

John shakes his head. He’s got the same look on his face that Stiles gets when he figures something out. “It wasn’t anything to do with them. It was for leverage, over Scott. He’s probably not cooperating. They were --.”

Isaac tunes out right then, because there’s a rush of adrenaline and fear coming from Stiles and he hears shouting and gun shots. He’s up and out the door before he can even think twice, sprinting down to the lobby. People are running in from outside, screaming, and a quick glance tells Isaac that Stiles isn’t one of them. He can hear John running behind him, starting to take control of the situation and pushes outside.

He’s shifted, which isn’t a good idea in a public place where people are already panicking, but it’s the second time today he’s shifted in a public place; he’ll just have to deal with the consequences later. Right now, he’s in the parking lot, trying to assess the situation and help his pack member.

Cordova’s behind the Jeep, his weapon out. He’s the source of the gunshots, Isaac’s sure, and he’s yelling something about officers of the law. Isaac doesn’t bother to listen to him. He instead focuses his senses, because he can’t see Stiles anywhere.

Isaac has  caught the scent of the collectors and is starting to follow it when he hears Stiles’s voice yell his name and he zeroes in on a dark SUV. It’s starting up and backing out with no regard to anyone it might hit and the tires squeal as it’s thrown into drive and starts to speed away.

Isaac lets his instincts take over and sprints toward the SUV, jumping and managing to land on top of it. He has one second to realize how _fucking awesome_ he feels in that moment (like a _fucking superhero_ ) before he glances around the roof. He can hear Stiles fighting back inside, and he seems to be doing pretty well, if the grunts of pain from the man mean anything. He spots a sunroof and makes his way to it.

He kicks at it, feeling a rush of urgency from Stiles. The glass doesn’t break, though there are cracks, and he kicks it again. The glass finally shatters, the muffled sounds of fighting get louder, and he starts to shove his way inside.

He’s stopped by an invisible barrier, and in that moment he knows he’s screwed. Because there’s mountain ash, and he can’t get through the window, and Stiles has stopped making noise, although Isaac can still feel his anger and panic, and the man is sticking his hand out with a taser. There’s no room for Isaac to dodge, and the prongs hit him in the shoulder, and it’s not the first time he’s been hit with a laser but it’s definitely the most painful.

He loses his balance and falls off the speeding car. There’s a moment of freefall where he tries to pretend this isn’t going to hurt like hell, and then there’s an explosion of light and pain, then darkness.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as Isaac stiffens, John knows something is up.

And then he hears the gunshots.

Isaac’s out the door before John can even think to move, which doesn’t bode well. John jumps up, yells, “Stay here, lock the door!” at Melissa, and sprints out the door. Isaac’s already down the hall, and people are coming out of hospital rooms and looking.

“Stay in your rooms, lock the doors!” John yells, glad he’s still in his sheriff uniform. People see his badge and they follow his instructions. He can see Isaac hitting the traffic jam at the door as people are running inside from the parking lot and figures that’s where he needs to head. He can see Isaac’s claws and knows he’s going to have some explaining to do, but Isaac isn’t hurting anyone, so John doesn’t do anything, just continues to shout instructions.

The door clears quickly, and John gets outside to see Isaac charging an SUV and Cordova getting up from behind Stiles’s Jeep.

Stiles is nowhere to be seen.

Isaac leaps on the SUV and lands on top as it speeds out of the parking lot. John can’t help but stare for a second as Isaac keeps his balance. He loses sight of it almost immediately.

He runs to his cruiser and throws the door open. Cordova’s already waiting and gets in the passenger seat. He’s uninjured but clearly anger as he pants out, “Snuck up on us. Stiles didn’t even have a chance.”

“Did they hurt him?” John demands, more harshly than he’d meant. It’s not Cordova’s fault, no matter how badly he wants to blame him.

“I don’t think so,” Cordova says as John starts to catch up with the SUV. He’s grateful for the sirens and for the fact that Isaac is still holding onto the top of it. “It was a man, the same one from the store video, he grabbed Stiles from behind but he didn’t hurt him, as far as I could tell. Stiles was still fighting but the man had a gun, he threatened to shoot Stiles. I didn’t have a shot until he turned to get Stiles in the van, and I missed.”

Cordova sounds horribly guilty, and John decides to push that off until later. He pulls the radio off of the dashboard and thrusts it at Cordova. “Get the license plate, get everyone we can on this, they’re the ones who have Scott, warn them that they’re armed and willing to hurt people, that Stiles --,” he can’t finish the sentence, but Cordova’s already speaking.

Isaac’s kicking the sunroof in, and John watches as he prepares himself to get into the SUV. He freezes, and what happens next happens faster than John can follow. Next thing he knows, Isaac is flying backward off the SUV, and John has to swerve to avoid his body from flying into the cruiser’s windshield. There’s a second of indecision before the SUV speeds up, and something flies out the window of it.

John screeches to a stop, but it’s too late. There’s a noise, and suddenly there’s smoke erupting from the ground. John can’t see past the smoke, but he hears the crashing noises, _plural_ , and several people start screaming. Cordova’s talking into the radio again, and John risks opening the door.

The smoke isn’t as dense as he first thought it was, and though it smells awful, it doesn’t make him cough. He assumes it has something to do with magic and takes this as a good sign. There’s still screams, though the crashing seems to have stopped. John pauses, but Cordova leans his head over and yells, “Check him!” and he starts running back toward where he knows Isaac fell. He doesn’t know if anyone was following him (he doubts it, but he hadn’t exactly been checking), nor if Isaac hit anyone else. He hopes to God he didn’t.

He gets out of the weird smoke substance and not forty feet from him, Isaac lies on the ground. There are cars stopped, but the closest one is quite a bit away from where Isaac landed, and the owner is leaning down next to Isaac.

John pushes himself faster and takes a moment to thank Stiles for his health regime, no matter how much it annoys him (he ignores the panic at the thought of his son). Isaac’s not moving, and that worries John. He doesn’t know the limit on injuries that werewolves can heal from, and he prays the pack didn’t just lose a member.

He gets to Isaac just as the woman leaning down says, “He’s still breathing!”

John lets out a sigh of relief and leans down. “Isaac? Isaac, can you hear me?”

Isaac doesn’t respond. This doesn’t surprise John, and it doesn’t make him feel any better either. Isaac is still breathing, so although he looks like shit, theoretically he should heal just fine. Then again, Derek’s uncle was in the hospital for six years before he finally healed, so maybe he’s being too optimistic.

He’s still new at this, goddamnit.

He realizes he’s hearing more sirens than just his own, which he accidentally left on, and watches as ambulances and firetrucks start showing up. John catches a glimpse of Derek jumping off a firetruck, and leaves Isaac in the capable hands of the EMTs who show up.

Derek’s clearly trying to focus on his job and not entirely succeeding, and he looks relieved when John asks to speak with him quickly. His co-workers look confused, but don’t say anything once he promises to be quick.

Derek’s eyes are faintly blue, and he’s obviously anxious. John tries not to think about the fact that there are only three pack members in any shape to do fight right now and says, “How much do you know?”

“I haven’t checked my phone,” Derek responds. “I know it went off, but we’ve been pretty busy today and I haven’t had a chance. I know something happened to Danny, Stiles, and Isaac, that Danny and Isaac are both unconscious, and that Stiles is panicking right now,” he doesn’t sound happy about any of that. John can sympathize.

“Danny and Stiles went to the grocery store and got attacked, Isaac helped them get away,” John said. “Danny was hurt, so they went to the hospital, where they stayed until a little bit ago when Stiles was again attacked and was taken. Isaac was on top of the car and was forced off, and hit the ground pretty hard. He’s unconscious, pretty banged up, and I don’t know how much you werewolves can heal from, so I can’t accurately predict that.”

Derek’s head suddenly tilts and he grimaces. “Someone’s dead. I don’t know who, but someone is. Probably here, at this accident. Lydia’s coming. These deaths had to do with magic.”

That won’t help the situation, John knows, but he can’t really tell a banshee not to be a banshee. He exhales and says, “Be alert. Go to the hospital when you’re done with your shift. How much longer?”

Derek sighs. “I’m on a long shift. I signed up for it a couple weeks ago because I was filling in for someone, so I’m on duty until one. We’re running short on people right now, since it’s right before the fourth of July, I don’t know if I’d be able to get off.”

“And we don’t want you to lose your job,” John says, resisting the urge to punch something. “Go help. I’ll intercept Lydia. The Argents will be with her, I’ll send them to the hospital.”

Derek nods and jogs off to help the other firefighters. John squeezes his fists as the panic he’s been pushing back starts to overwhelm him, and lets out a long, shaky breath. He’s got a job to do, and he’s got to keep himself together. At least for a little while longer. For Stiles.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooooo, Lydia's first POV chapter, FINALLY.
> 
> I'm playing with my banshee mythology now, bear with me because it'll eventually be important, I promise.
> 
> And thanks for reading and for all the comments and kudos!

One day, Lydia is going to get control of her banshee powers and _not_ lose time when traveling from one place to the next. It has to be possible. She _will_ make it happen.

Until then, she’s stuck losing time in a trance and coming out of it when she’s around deaths involving the supernatural. She doesn’t know where she’s at this time, doesn’t know where anybody else is, and is somewhat surprised to see Sheriff Stilinski with his hand on her shoulder, looking at her with concern.

“Uh,” she says, and then Allison appears at her shoulder.

“What the hell happened here?” she asks, gesturing behind the sheriff. He doesn’t even turn to look, just lets out a long breath. Mr. Argent walks up behind Allison, his eyes narrowed in the way that means he’s really worried about what’s going on, and he frowns.

“Why is Isaac unconscious?” Allison asks. “And where is Stiles and what’s wrong with him?”

The sheriff lets out another breath and says, “Stiles was taken from the hospital. Isaac tried to stop the car he was in and ended up falling off of it while it was speeding down the road. He hit the ground, but he’s still breathing, and I don’t know how badly injured a werewolf has to be before they stop healing, so don’t ask me that. Danny’s still at the hospital, and Melissa is with him. Derek’s here, doing his job. He warned me you were coming.”

“What do they want with Stiles?” Lydia asks, watching the sheriff. He looks utterly exhausted and there’s a note of urgency in his eyes that reminds her that as worried as she feels about Stiles and Scott, he probably feels ten times worse.

“We think Scott’s not cooperating with them,” the sheriff says.

“And they took Stiles as a way to try and control him?” Mr. Argent finishes. Sheriff Stilinski nods.

“What’s the plan now?” Lydia asks.

“The only one we have is the old one,” the sheriff says. “We don’t have a way to find Stiles or Scott.”

“But once they’ve gotten what they want from Scott, they’re probably going to kill Stiles,” Mr. Argent looks pained at having to say that. “We don’t have the luxury of waiting for the original plan now.”

“There’s a problem with that, though,” Allison says. “We’re down four pack members. Stiles and Scott are missing and both Isaac and Danny are unconscious.”

“Derek can’t join us until one in the morning,” the sheriff informs them.

“So basically, it’s just us,” Lydia says. “And we have no idea how to find them. We’ve got to have some sort of plan.”

She’s about to add more when she sees Derek walking quickly towards them. He’s got something in his hands and looks to be on the verge of wolfing out. It’s not a comforting sight.

He nods at Mr. Argent and gives both Lydia and Allison a warmer look before holding his hands out. He’s holding Stiles’s keys.

“They were on the ground,” Derek says. “Not too far from the source of this fog . Stiles probably threw them out the window at the same time as the collectors threw this out,” he opens his other hand to reveal a small metal ball.

“What is that?” Allison asks.

Derek holds it up. “Have you all read Harry Potter?”

“What?” Lydia can’t help but ask.

“Yes,” Allison interrupts her.

Lydia doesn’t let that deter her. “Why?”

“Fred and George sell something called Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” Derek says. “In the books, it creates darkness so thick not even the usual light spells would work. In the movie, it produced dark smoke, similar to what happened here. It’s a magical smokescreen, except instead of causing smoke inhalation, it just smells awful and masks scents.”

“Why do you know that?” Lydia asks.

Derek shifts his weight somewhat uncomfortably before saying, “My brother used to make it and would test it on me.”

_Oh._ Lydia nods.

“So the good news is no one here is going to die from breathing too much of it in,” Derek says. He passes the keys into the sheriff’s waiting hands and the small ball into Lydia’s curious hand. “The bad news is people still died, and I can’t track the collectors because of the smell. I can’t catch their scent.”

“We messed it up,” the sheriff says, and Lydia looks at him with confusion, as does everyone else. She’d know that the sheriff and Stiles were alike, but she didn’t know they were _that_ alike.

“Messed what up?” Allison asks.

“Their usual plan, we messed up,” the sheriff looks up. “Or rather, you guys messed it up. They weren’t prepared for you guys. They’re adapting to the situation, but they weren’t prepared for it. You guys, just by being yourselves, have messed up their plans. That’s why this was so messy. They knew there was a pack here, they had to have known, if Deucalion’s the one who told them about Scott. Scott won’t cooperate, Stiles took it right to the police, Isaac was at the store, all of their plans keep getting messed up because they don’t know you guys.”

“How does that help us?” Allison asks slowly.

“It gives me an advantage I can use,” the sheriff says, with the same glint in his eyes that Stiles gets whenever he has a brilliant, if somewhat crazy, idea. Lydia narrows her eyes.

“What’s the plan, then?” Allison sounds a bit more hopeful, and even Derek’s starting to look calmer. Lydia’s grateful for that, at least.

“I need you guys to go to the hospital with Isaac and stay there,” the sheriff says. “I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done here. There might be some confusing explanations  that you’ll have to make when he starts healing. Derek, you’ll just have to be careful.”

“ _Very_ careful,” Lydia adds. She is _not_ going to be happy if Derek gets himself hurt, too. Derek, as usual, doesn’t know exactly what to do with her, and just nods jerkily.

“You guys, too,” he says. “Don’t forget that they already attacked the hospital once.”

“I’d say they don’t do repeat business, but clearly, they’re not sticking to their usual patterns,” Mr. Argent says.

“I’m gonna have Parrish go to the hospital, too,” the sheriff says. “He has the night shift, so he’s free until ten. Take Stiles’s keys, the IDs are in his Jeep. Get them and keep them with you. And be _careful_.”

Lydia takes the keys from the sheriff and nods. She squeezes the keys and wishes her abilities would let her locate the living so she could find Stiles and Scott. She tries to comfort herself by thinking about the fact that the two of them are probably together right now, and, if anything, they make a good team. They’ll get through this. They always do. Those two have more dumb luck than anyone Lydia’s ever met before. They’ll be okay.

She follows Allison and Mr. Argent back to the car. Derek’s back in the fray with the other firefighters, since one of the cars seems to have caught on fire, and Sheriff Stilinski has a _lot_ of work ahead of him. Lydia feels somewhat bad for the two of them, because both of them are stuck at work when they’d rather be out looking for Stiles (and also Scott). She’s certain that the minute they get off work, they’ll find another way to find the two missing pack members.

She gets in the backseat of Danny’s car (Derek still has her car, not that she minds). Mr. Argent is driving, and he looks grim as they drive down to the hospital. The waiting room is crazy, and they head to Danny’s room to wait. Melissa greets them, then hurries off to go find Isaac.

She comes back later to tell them, “He’s looking okay. He’s healing, though more slowly than I was expecting. I’m going to have to tell his doctor, though.”

Danny’s still out like a light, and Mr. Argent promises to stay with him while Allison and Lydia go see Isaac. It’s a relatively short walk, but the hospital is still busy enough that they’re having to push through a lot of people, and Lydia’s starting to feel annoyed at everything. It stops when she gets in the room and looks at Isaac, who’s still unconscious.

“He looks a lot better than he did earlier,” Melissa promises.

“He’ll heal just fine,” Allison’s letting out a breath of relief. “I’ve seen him heal from worse.”

“What a happy thought,” Lydia mutters. Allison raises an eyebrow and then grabs her arm.

“Come on,” she says. “You need something sugary. You’re getting that way you get when you haven’t eaten anything.”

Lydia’s about to protest that they shouldn’t leave Isaac alone when Parrish walks in, dressed in plain clothes. He nods at both of them in greeting and says, “Chris said you guys were in here. He’s keeping watch over Danny, and he suggested that I come down here and watch over Isaac, in case you two have any ideas or need a break. Frankly, you both look like you need it.”

“Thank you,” Allison says. Lydia just nods and lets Allison pull her down to the cafeteria. She does feel more calm after she’s eaten, but she’s still extremely on edge. She puts her head down on her arms and closes her eyes as she waits for Allison to finish eating, and feels a weird sort of shiver go through her.

She lifts her head in alarm and the movement startles Allison, who looks at her. “What is it? Are you going to scream? Is someone dead?”

“I’m not going to scream,” Lydia says slowly. “But yes, someone is going to die. See that old man over there?”

Allison follows her gaze to an old man in the corner on an oxygen tank. He’s sitting with what looks to be his granddaughter, and he’s smiling. “Oh. Oh, God.”

“I can’t,” Lydia gets up from the table and stalks out of the room, trying to push down the horrible feeling inside of her. She doesn’t know where the absolute certainty that that man was going to die very soon came from, but she hates it. She hates these powers. She hates being a banshee, she hates that she’s not human, she hates it all.

Allison finds her sitting on the floor next to a vending machine, hugging her knees to her chest and staring at the wall. She joins Lydia on the floor and just sits there, completely quiet.

“I don’t know how you feel,” she finally says, quietly. “And I won’t pretend I do. But, if you need to talk, to vent, to _anything_ , please do it. I won’t get angry. Just don’t -- don’t hold it in, okay? Because I _do_ know how that feels.”

Lydia blinks and says, “I hate this. The powers, the constant threat, the deaths, and now, on top of all that, I have to know when an old man with a family is going to die? I have to be able to pick out someone who is going to die soon in a crowd? _Why_? I can’t do anything about it. I can’t change that that man is going to die from his illness. I can’t change the fact that I have no idea where Scott and Stiles are, I can’t tell you how much I’m hoping I’m not the one that finds them. I don’t understand these powers, and it --,” she stops talking and puts her head on her knees.

Allison moves closer to her and says, “We’ll figure it out. _We_ , meaning all of us, the _pack_.”

“Yeah, the pack that’s in pieces right now,” Lydia points out, hating the bitterness in her tone but not quite wanting to take it back.

“We’ll get it together,” Allison says firmly. “We’ll rescue Scott and Stiles, Isaac and Danny will heal. There’s no other way it can go.”

Lydia lets out a small laugh. “We’ll make it work through sheer will power.”

“Exactly,” Allison says. “Now come on. This floor is gross and I left my crossbow in Isaac’s room. That’s something I don’t want to explain.”

Lydia smiles and lets Allison pull her to her feet. She follows her to Isaac’s hospital room and sits down on the couch in there, feeling exhausted and still really worried. She sits down on the couch and nods off while waiting for Sheriff Stilinski.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait again, guys. I'm gonna try and upload more consistently than before.
> 
> This chapter is just Stiles and Scott. I literally have nothing to say about this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Scott has been sitting at attention for the past couple hours, in a near constant state of panic. It’s been a long time since the hunters left to go after Stiles, and as far as he can tell, they haven’t returned. Scott’s not sure if they’re just taking their time to make sure it goes over well or if their plan failed, but he’s hoping it’s the later. The wolf inside of him is screaming for blood, despite the fact he’s still injured, still trapped in the cage, and he can feel himself getting weaker and weaker as time passes. He knows he’s dehydrated, and though he’s never asked Derek, he’s pretty sure the lack of water and food while injured is going to kill him faster than it would a normal human. He hasn’t passed out, but he’s nauseous and his head is pounding more and more.

He’s still got his ears trained for any sound, and he hears a car driving up. He closes his eyes and focuses on the heartbeats. He listens for a second and then has a horrible realization.

There are three heartbeats.

The fear hits him harder than he’d expected and he has to stop and focus on breathing before he actually passes out. He tunes back in as the front door opens and there’s a thump and irritated and muffled grunt.

“What took so long?” the man in charge demands.

“Little shit had pack members with him,” a woman says. “We injured one, might have killed another. Didn’t have time to check, the sheriff was on our ass.”

_Oh, God_.  One of his pack might be dead, and Scott can’t breathe. His wolf howls inside of him, but he can’t do anything. His eyes are red, he can feel it, but he can’t break free and he can’t protect his pack. He’s trapped in a cage that’s _too small_ and it feels like the bars are closing in on him and --

Someone hits the ground in front of him and Scott takes a huge breath in shock, filling his nose with the scent, and he doesn’t need to see the person to know it’s Stiles.

Stiles, who is turning to look towards him with wide, relief-filled eyes, though he’s curling in on himself. Stiles, whose wrists are tied behind his back. Scott hates himself just a little bit for the little bit of comfort seeing Stiles gives him.

The fear far outweighs it, because they’re clearly going to kill Stiles no matter what he does, and Stiles knows it if the look in his eyes means anything. Scott lets himself take in Stiles’s scent and he can tell that Stiles is more angry than anything else at this point.

The man in charge walks in, posturing so much Stiles turns his head back to Scott and raises an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘really?’. Scott wills him to cooperate, to not piss them off, but he knows it’s probably futile. And it makes Scott something of a hypocrite, since he’s been resisting, so he can’t be too upset.

“So,” the man says, walking casually to stand next to Stiles, who makes a noise too quiet for the man to hear. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let us do what we need to, and we’ll try to give your packmate a quick and easy death.”

Stiles’s reaction is exactly what Scott had imagined. He rolls his eyes and mutters something that Scott can’t actually understand but assumes is along the lines of ‘Are you fucking kidding me.’

Scott, on the other hand, just feels more nauseous. He still can’t find a way out of this, and if he doesn’t come up with a plan soon, Stiles is going to die. And Stiles is already injured, Scott can tell from the way he’s trying to protect his ribs without being too obvious. He can really only hope that whoever’s able in the pack finds them. He hopes to God someone shows up, if not in time to save him, then in time to save Stiles.

“You’re taking too long,” the man says irritably, and uses his foot to roll Stiles onto his back. Stiles lets out an involuntary pained noise, and Scott clenches his fists in anger. The man pulls out a gun from a shoulder holster and points it at Stiles.

“You’re going to agree, or I’m going to shoot him in the leg and we’ll watch him bleed out,” the man says. Scott looks down at Stiles, panicking, but Stiles is shaking his head. His eyes are wide like he’s trying to tell Scott to not let him be used as a bargaining chip. Scott tries to silently remind Stiles that not only is he Stiles’s Alpha, he’s Stiles’s brother and there are certain things you don’t to your brother _like let them die when you can otherwise help out_. Stiles isn’t having it, but before their silent conversation can go any further, the man fires the gun.

For one horrified second, Scott expects to see and smell blood and lets out a pathetic attempt at a yell before he realizes that the bullet hit the ground. Stiles is pale and shaking, but no more injured than before.

“Final chance,” the man says, and Scott doesn’t look at Stiles because he knows what he’ll see. He just nods, giving in. He can’t see a way out, but maybe he’s bought some time. Maybe the pack will show up. Maybe zombies will attack. Maybe _something_ will happen and Scott won’t have to watch his best friend die.

There’s a moment where the man doesn’t move and Scott thinks he’s going to shoot Stiles anyway, but the man finally lowers the gun, turns the safety back on, and holsters it. He glares at them both and stalks out of the room.

Scott listens for any sign that he’s coming back, but the man is calling the others to the room and starts telling them his plan. Scott looks at Stiles.

“Are you okay?” he asks Stiles. His voice sounds absolutely awful and it hurts to talk, but he doesn’t care. He needs to know.

Stiles grimaces. “A few bruised ribs, I think, and two broken fingers, but that’s from earlier.”

“Earlier?” Scott raises an eyebrow. “Is everyone okay? He said injured one, might have killed another.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No one’s dead. I can still feel them.”

Scott lets out a sigh of relief and feels himself tear up. He forces them back and focuses on Stiles again.

“They attacked us earlier,” Stiles continues when Scott nods. “Me and Danny, I mean, while we were at the grocery store. They hit Danny with a stun gun, he went down hard and hit his head. Isaac was on shift, heard and felt what was going on and came running in like a goddamn knight, saved my ass and Danny’s. Probably quit his job at the same time, he wolfed out and we had to leave the store in a hurry. We went right to the hospital, Danny’s got a concussion and your mom was taking care of him. Cor-- a friend and I went out to the Jeep to get something, and I got attacked from behind. They dragged me to an SUV. Isaac got up on top of it and was holding on but apparently the car was lined in mountain ash, because he couldn’t get in. And then he went flying off the back. He hit the ground pretty hard from what I could tell.”

Scott winces. “But he’s not dead?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Unconscious for the moment, but he’s not dead and he’s not dying. I don’t think. My dad was following and they threw some sort of smoke bomb, so he probably got forced to stop. He probably took care of Isaac.”

Scott nods. His relief is so strong he feels even more nauseous, and the comfort of having a pack member there is helping quiet his wolf for the moment. He’s able to relax more than he’s been able for a while.

Stiles has his eyes narrowed at him. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, dude, either you’re not healing or they’ve been messing you up more, and I swear to God you’ve lost weight.”

Scott sighs. “I was pretty messed up originally. I crashed my bike and I haven’t eaten since I left Allison’s -- how long ago? I don’t know. I haven’t drank, or slept, and I can’t feel the pack bond. I have literally no energy to heal.”

Stiles winces. “Shit. The pack has a plan, but me getting kidnapped was not part of it and with Danny and Isaac both down for the moment, I don’t know what they’re going to do.”

Scott blinks. “So it’s Allison, Lydia, and Derek?”

“And my dad, and Chris, and Deaton, and --,” Stiles cuts himself off and glances towards the door before continuing, “ -- friends. You know.”

Scott just nods. Stiles doesn’t have to say anything. There’s not many people left, just Parrish and Cordova, and if Stiles isn’t willing to say their names, they must be important to the plan somehow. He doesn’t know how the pack managed to get enough info to get a plan ready, and he doesn’t care. He’s just glad it happened.

Stiles is pushing himself up, and he narrows his eyes at Scott. “What’s around your neck?”

Scott makes a face. “A collar. It shocks me, I think, if I do something they don’t like. There’s probably a remote, but I haven’t seen it.”

“Come over here,” Stiles says, shifting himself closer to the cage. Scott goes over to him and lets Stiles look at it. He doesn’t know why it’s important, but Stiles has a tendency to make connections he doesn’t. He just goes with it.

“Chris was right,” Stiles says, and moves away from the bars again. “That collar has runes on it. Those runes are what are cutting you off from the pack.”

Scott’s eyes widen. “ _That’s_ how? There are runes?”

“Apparently it’s a thing for hunters, don’t ask me,” Stiles shrugs. “Deaton looked them up for us and then we cross-referenced with Chris and he said hunters know about them.”

Scott reaches for the collar and tries to pull it off, but he’s far too weak. It doesn’t even budge. He growls.

“What are they saying?” Stiles nods towards the other room.

“They’re going over tomorrow’s schedule,” Scott grumbles. “When they plan to auction me off.”

“Chris knew,” Stiles says. “He knew about them, but not until it was too late. He’s our main source right now, he’s got a contact.”

“I feel like I should be surprised, but I’m really not.”

Stiles actually honest-to-God _grins_ at him. “We’re awesome, dude.”

Scott can’t believe how comforting it is to hear Stiles sounding normal. “Maybe _Chris_ is, that doesn’t mean _you_ are.”

Stiles mock-pouts, and leans back on his elbows. “Wow, I really wish I knew what the fuck we’re going to do. Isaac was the only one with their scent, and Derek’s at work.”

Scott grimaces. The pack might have a plan in place to save him, but that doesn’t help Stiles. He’d prefer they saved Stiles before him. _Instead_ of him, even. He didn’t want anyone to die because of him.

Before he can say anything else, the woman comes storming into the room. She has a bruise on her face, and is favoring her right shoulder, and Stiles actually smirks when he sees her. Until she grabs him by his elbow and forces him to his feet. Stiles throws a look over his shoulder, but Scott’s frozen, terrified that Stiles is going to die right there. He watches as Stiles is forced through the door and it slams behind them.

Scott holds the howl of panic his wolf is trying to let out and prays to whatever deity is listening that the pack or _somebody_ will get Stiles out of there. Preferably soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wOW, so hi everyone. I am an awful person with awful motivation who honestly never forgot about this story but couldn't bring herself to continue it. I am genuinely so sorry. I've finally finished the next chapter, and hopefully the one after that won't take too long to get going, AGAIN I AM SO VERY VERY VERY VERY SORRY AND IF YOU'RE STILL READING GOD BLESS YOUR SOUL.

It takes an hour for the woman to clean Scott up. She sets his leg, cleans the blood off of him, and cuffs his hands behind him before dragging him out to the living room. His leg still hurts and his head is still pounding, but he’s not longer covered in blood, so that’s an improvement.

Better yet is when he sees Stiles, still alive, sitting in a chair next to the front door. His hands are still tied and he’s gagged, but he’s alert and looking extremely irritated. Scott’s stupidly glad to see him, even if he’s not sure what’s going to happen to him. Stiles looks similarly relieved until the man in charge stands and says, “Let’s get this over with. This job has been more trouble than it’s worth.”

“It’s a True Alpha, it’s probably the best job we’ve ever had,” one of the men replies.

“You’re not the one who had to go fight his pack,” the other man mutters. He’s got a bandage wrapped around his leg and is moving gingerly. Scott hopes the injury lasts, if only to remind him not to mess with his pack.

“Stop whining, you’re fine,” the woman rolls her eyes.

“Take him out to the car,” the man in charge says, clearly trying to shut them up. “Nick, stay in here and help me with this one,” he gestures towards Stiles.

Scott’s not sure which one is Nick, but it becomes clear when the uninjured man comes forward and pulls out a knife. Scott feels sick for a moment, but the man only uses the knife to cut the ropes around Stiles’s wrists.

Stiles launches himself at the man in charge, but the other man -- Nick -- grabs him from behind, catching him around the waist. Stiles makes a pained noise behind the gag, and Scott winces in sympathy. Stiles has his eyes squeezed closed, and doesn’t really fight as the men drag him across the room.

Scott’s fighting against his cuffs, but there’s no give. He’s held in place as a trapdoor in the floor is yanked open. The men lift Stiles off the floor and literally drop him through the door. His knee hits the side of the trapdoor, and Scott winces again.

He doesn’t hear Stiles moving as the trapdoor is closed, and focuses his hearing, finding Stiles’s heartbeat to reassure himself. It’s going a little fast, but it’s still strong.

“Take him out of here,” the man in charge says, and Scott’s dragged backwards out the door as the men pick up a container of a liquid and open it.

The scent hits Scott before he’s pulled out of the room. He lets out another strangled yell as he realizes what it is. It’s gasoline, and Scott knows exactly how they’re planning on getting rid of Stiles.

“No!” he fights, ignoring the way his leg protests the way he’s treating it. The man dragging him backwards raises his hand with a handful of what looks like wolfsbane in it, but Scott’s done playing around. As the hand gets closer to his face, Scott lunges at it, fangs out, and bites the man.

The man shouts in alarm, and Scott sees the exact moment he realizes what it means. The woman is frozen, too, staring at the man. Scott ignores the taste of blood in his mouth and twists, trying to get his arms free from their grips.

“You _fucking son of a bitch_!” the man yells, dragging Scott around and slamming him up against the SUV. Scott doesn’t have the leverage to stop him, and his head hits the SUV so hard he sees stars for a moment. He’s not regretting biting the man, but holy shit, his head hurts.

He’s still trying to clear his head when the man opens the door and tosses Scott into the back of the van. He feels slightly disconnected from his body as he listens to the man yelling in pain and shock. He hears the woman scream for the others -- apparently the man in charge’s name is Brendon -- and hears them running out.

Scott doesn’t know how long he lies there listening to what’s going on. He hears Brendon trying to assess the situation, and Nick’s pleading with the man. The man’s starting to cough, and sounds weak.

It’s not until hears Nick say, “Why is the blood _black_?” in an unsteady voice that Scott finally figures out what’s going on.

“His body is rejecting it,” Brendon says, and he sounds surprisingly solemn. From the way they’ve been acting, Scott assumed the group didn’t actually like each other, just worked together for the money.

The fact that he’s apparently wrong brings on a new wave of nausea that has nothing to do with his injuries, and he squeezes his eyes closed, wishing he could turn off his hearing. He wants to forget that he hears the man in charge offering to help the dying man -- _Patrick_ , and God how Scott did not want to know his name -- and Nick refusing. He doesn’t want to remember hearing the way Nick whispers that he loves Patrick before a gun is cocked, and the beat of silence before the gunshot that ends Patrick’s life rings out.

The door is thrown open and Scott feels himself dragged forward.

“You _murdering son of a bitch_!” Nick roars in his face, and Scott has a hard time focusing on him but he’s pretty sure Nick is trying to strangle him and is being held back. They do nothing about Nick’s screams of rage.

“You killed him! You’ll fucking pay for this, you disgusting mutt, I’ll kill you myself! I’ll kill your whole fucking family!”

It takes something like twenty minutes before the other two finally get Nick calmed down enough to make a plan. Scott’s pushed back into the van and loaded next to him is Patrick’s body, close enough that Scott can smell the blood and see the gunshot through the head. He feels sick.

Nick’s trembling when he gets into the van and doesn’t hesitate to kick Scott when he’s climbing over him. The woman is quiet as she tosses a few bags to Nick, a shocked look on her face. Scott can’t see Brendon at all, but he assumes he’s probably in the same state.

It doesn’t matter. Scott’s mind is reeling. Nick wouldn’t have had to shoot Patrick if Scott hadn’t bit him. The bite was killing him. _Scott_ killed him.

_He wasn’t innocent_ , Stiles’s voice says in his head. _It was self-defense. It’s not your fault._

_Except it was his fault_ , he argues with the voice. _He’s the one who bit him._

_And they’re the ones who kidnapped you and are going to sell you to a hunter._

The van jerks forward, startling Scott out of his thoughts, and he realizes with a sick dread that this has moved Patrick’s body right up to his face. He’s grabbed from behind and pulled away before he can really process this, and Nick says, “Don’t get that close to him. He deserves more respect than that.”

Scott swallows hard and closes his eyes. The tiny bit of energy he has left is redirecting itself to help him feel guilty and horrified, and he soon drifts off, focused on that. He barely notices when Nick tosses him out of the van and Brendon and the woman drag him into a new place, and only vaguely notices when the woman leaves again, lighter in hand. Brendon and Nick shove him in a room, and he doesn’t bother moving from the position he’s left in when they walk away.

In his head, his wolf howls, long and mournful. He ignores it and falls into a nightmare-plagued sleep, seeing visions of his pack, all lying dead on the floor next to him, a single gunshot wound on their forehead.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The accident takes literal _hours_ to clean up, and by the end of it Derek’s ready to go curl up in a corner somewhere and sleep for days. He’s still got a couple of hours before his shift is over, though, and after that he’s likely going to spend the night searching for Stiles and Scott. It’ll be just him, Allison, and Lydia as far as Derek knows, although Melissa has informed him that Isaac is healing nicely, and he’s not looking forward to having literally nothing to go on when they start searching.

Working on the accident had distracted Derek from Stiles’s emotions earlier, but now he knows that Stiles is injured and practically unconscious. Allison had sent him a text that said they’re pretty sure that Stiles had been taken to Scott if the level of relief he’d felt had been anything to go on, but there had been panic as well, and anger. No one knows exactly what to make of that.

Cassie drops into the seat next to him. “Long day, huh?”

Derek sighs. He really doesn’t want to talk to anyone, but Cassie is pretty persistent. “You have no idea.”

Cassie grimaces. “I can’t wait to get off and head to my sister’s place in LA. That class of yours let you off this week?”

Derek shakes his head. “Not a chance. I have class tomorrow.”

“I am truly sorry,” Cassie says. “I will mourn your non-vacation while sipping a martini. I will possibly pout.”

Derek snorts. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Cassie says. She leans forward. “When are you going full shifts, do you know?”

Derek shakes his head. Most firefighters work a twenty-four hour shift, then are off for forty-eight hours. Derek’s been on a special allowance since he started as at the station, as a sort of part-time firefighter. It was only supposed to be temporary, but Derek’s life doesn’t ever work the way it’s supposed to, so he hasn’t started full shifts yet. He’s pretty sure he probably should have been fired by now, but Brian for whatever reason has a soft spot for him. He doesn’t question it.

“Soon, I hope,” Derek says. “I’ve been ready for a while now.”

The doubt in Cassie’s eye would have been insulting if Derek hadn’t known she’d witnessed some of his flashbacks. They often cook for the rest of the station together and are pretty much always on shift together. Beacon Hills doesn’t have a large firefighter population, so they all know each other pretty well, and everyone knows about Derek’s family and the various events that have happened since he returned to Beacon Hills. They don’t know about the supernatural side of it, but the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time.

Before he can say anything else, the alarm goes off and the dispatch call plays through the station. Derek pushes aside the exhaustion he’s feeling and follows Cassie to get their uniforms on. They’re pulling out of the station minutes later.

“Alright there, Derek?” Mike, the oldest firefighter currently employed at their station, says from the driver’s seat. Mike had been at the fire seven years ago, too. He’d taken Derek under his wing when he’d started at the station and still watches after him.

“As alright as I can be,” Derek answers, his antsy feeling increasing by each passing moment. He wants to leave and find Stiles and their Alpha and watch over their injured packmates.

But he has a job to do, so he’ll do it.

“Rough day, huh?” Mike says, and Derek grimaces. “Ah, you’re still young. I remember this one time, when I was first starting out.”

Mike continues, and Derek tunes him out, unable to even fake interest in Mike’s usually entertaining stories. Something’s wrong with Stiles, something that’s making him feel further away than usual, and it’s making Derek’s already stretched thin nerves go haywire. He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll last at keeping his cool at this rate; his wolf has been howling to go hunt down the people hurting Stiles since he’d learned Stiles had been attacked earlier.

“Are we heading to a forest fire?” Cassie asks.

“Cabin in the forest,” Mike says. “Abandoned, but some kids must have thought it’d be funny to start a bonfire there.”

“Yikes,” Cassie says. Derek sighs.

“Hopefully it’ll be an easy fire and no one will be hurt,” Mike says. “We dish out the usual ‘don’t play with fire without a proper fire pit and in the right conditions’ speech, we hand them over to the sheriff, we go home.”

“Sounds good,” Derek says. _And then find Stiles and Scott. Good plan. Please work._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to God I'll get the next chapter up faster than this one was put up.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I KNOW I'm terrible. Honestly, I don't know what is taking me so damn long to finish this. I'm so sorry. This is really short, but I've been stuck at the end of this chapter for a while, so I just said screw it and hopefully starting a new chapter will help me figure things out.
> 
> If you're still reading, God bless you. I really don't deserve it.

The first thing Derek thinks when they pull up to the cabin how Stiles was probably going to make a Cabin In The Woods joke when he heard about this later.

Pushing that out of his head, he gets out of the truck and drops to the ground - and immediately has to close his eyes as his wolf reacts to the scents around him.

_Blood, Stiles, Scott, gunpowder, gasoline...what happened here?_

“Kid, you okay?” Mike asks as he passes Derek, and Derek opens his eyes, unsure if they’re back to normal or not. Mike doesn’t react beyond a concerned glance, and Derek lets himself relax a tiny bit and clears his throat.

“Just jumpy,” he says, glancing around. He stretches his senses as far as he can, pushing his hearing to the limit. The scents are fresh, maybe twenty minutes old. There’s a possibility they’re still being watched.

He’s vaguely aware of the others calling out to each other, getting started on the job, serious because fires in the forest are always a danger. He’s starting to give up and go help them when he hears something.

A heartbeat. From the middle of the cabin that is _literally on fire._

For a second, he’s frozen, a stream of _ohgodsomeoneisinthereohgod_ echoing in his mind. He nearly gets it under control when a part of him notes that it could be Stiles or Scott in the cabin, and he’s gone.

“Kid!”

“ _Derek_!”

Mike and Cassie’s calls do nothing to stop him as he bursts through the door of the cabin, his panicked mind completely stuck on the fact that a fire might take someone else from him, like it’d taken his mother, like it’d taken Peter, like it’d taken a part of him. He will not let it win this time.

As soon as he’s in the house, he realizes he’s an idiot. He’s a trained fireman. He’s _literally_ sat through dozens of lectures where he’s been _specifically told_ not to run blind and without the proper equipment into a fire. He’s going to be in so much trouble when this is over.

A familiar groan coming up from the floor underneath him is more than enough to distract him.

_Stiles, no, please, not Stiles._

He gets down on his hands and knees, painfully aware of the smoke thickening and his coworkers’ yelling from outside. The fire was started in a back room, but it’s spreading towards Derek quickly, and he won’t have much time before the wooden floor starts to disintegrate. He starts searching for some sort of trapdoor.

He finds a line in the floor, perpendicular to the rest of the lines, and of _course_ , some of the ceiling fell on it. The heat is starting to get unbearable, and Derek’s starting to cough. If it’s bad for him, it has to be worse for Stiles, and that just makes Derek dig through the debris faster.

He finally gets the door clear and pulls it open to find Stiles, lying on the ground, barely conscious. His hands are tied behind him, and he’s gagged, but he reacts to the light, if barely, and Derek takes that as a good sign. He jumps down into the trapdoor and grabs Stiles, allowing his claws to come out and slice through the ropes binding Stiles’ hands. Stiles moves his arms feebly before giving up and going limp

Derek lifts Stiles through the trapdoor and then pulls himself out. He can feel his skin blistering as he picks Stiles up and hurries towards the door, stumbling the last few steps and nearly tripping as he makes it outside the cabin. There’s yelling, and lots of lights flashing, and someone pulls Stiles out of his grip. He tries to protest, but only ends up coughing instead, and stops fighting.

An oxygen mask is forced onto his face, and Derek just breathes for a while, letting the sounds wash over him, feeling numb.

_Fire, it’s always fire, it’s always fire._

“Derek?”

The sheriff’s face is right in front of his, and Derek jerks backwards before he catches himself. It’s been too much, the entire day has been too much and he can’t deal with it right now.

“Derek, son, I need you to listen to me,” the sheriff says, grabbing Derek’s wrist. “You did good. Stiles is gonna be okay. The plan’s still moving forward. We need you here. We need you here, Derek, do you understand me?”

Derek nods slowly. He understands. Scott. They still have to save Scott. Stiles is going to be okay, but Scott is still gone. He swallows painfully and nods again.

“Okay,” the sheriff says, squeezing Derek’s wrist. “You’re gonna have to go to the hospital. You can’t go in the same ambulance as Stiles; I already asked. But the rest of the pack is already there. Stay there and recover. It’s been a bad day.”

Derek lets out a noise that’s half-sob, half-laugh. That was a fucking _understatement_. He nods again, and the sheriff squeezes his wrist one more time and lets go. Derek follows the instructions of the EMTs, nodding and shaking his head when asked questions. He watches the ambulance Stiles is in leave before relaxing as best he could in his own ambulance. He probably doesn’t require his own, but he’s not about to argue. It’s taking him to the hospital, where Stiles and his pack are. He’ll be safe there.

Well, as safe as he can be.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UH SO HI I LITERALLY HAVE NO IDEA THERE'S NO EXCUSES THERE'S NOTHING I'M JUST GONNA

“You know,” Allison says, “we’re here enough, we should just move in.”

There’s a groan from the bed, where Danny’s lying. “I’d really rather not.”

Allison tries not to smile. There’s not much to smile about; Isaac’s still unconscious and she hasn’t heard anything about Stiles or Scott, but Danny’s awake and coherent, only a minor head injury, and Isaac’s healing quickly. Maybe their luck is turning.

Or maybe not, because just then, Melissa comes barreling in the room and says, “Lydia’s gone.”

Allison jumps to her feet. “ _What_?”

Lydia’s gone. There can only be one reason, if she hasn’t said anything to anyone.

_Someone’s dead_.

“She’s gone,” Melissa repeats. “Your dad went to follow her, but we’re not sure how long ago she left, and none of us heard her scream.”

“Derek would have,” Allison says, her mind whirling. “We need to -.”

She’s cut off by her phone ringing and answers without even checking it. “Hello?”

“Allison, we found Stiles,” the sheriff says, and for a second, Allison’s blood runs cold, but then he continues. “He’s alive - he’s in rough shape, but he’s alive. He and Derek are both on the way to the hospital, Derek was burned, but he’s healing. He’s probably going to have problems with smoke inhalation, I don’t know how the werewolf thing affects that.”

“Thank _God_ ,” Allison says, and means it. “But Sheriff - Lydia’s gone. No one’s with her. Is there anyone dead there?”

The sheriff is quiet for a long moment, and then, “No. No bodies or remains here.”

“Shit,” Allison says. She takes a deep breath and forces her mind to slow down, to focus. “Okay. Can you put an APB out for Danny’s car? That’s the only car she could have taken. My dad’s out looking for her, but if she’s not heading to your location…”

“She’s heading for trouble,” the sheriff finishes, and sighs. “I’ll call it in. What’s the license plate?”

Allison gives it to him and hangs up after promising to keep an eye out for Stiles and Derek. She gives Danny and Melissa a run down of the situation, then heads down to Isaac’s room.

Parrish is still there, seated where he can see the door. He nods at her as she walks in and says, “Any news?”

Allison opens her mouth to respond, but her phone rings - _again_ \- and she holds up a hand before answering. She doesn’t have to check this time; it’s her dad’s ringtone.

“Dad?”

“I’ve found Lydia,” he says by way of greeting. “She’s in Danny’s car, she’s heading out of town, it looks like.”

Allison breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. If she starts to head into trouble -.”

“ - I’ll stop her,” her dad finishes. “Don’t worry about her. Any news on the others?”

“Apparently Derek found Stiles,” Allison says. “There must have been a fire, I don’t know the whole story, but they’re both on the way to the hospital.”

Parrish gives a thumbs-up, clearing having been paying attention, and Allison gives him a small smile in return. Then she says, “Let me know what happens, okay?”

“Will do,” her dad says.

“Stay safe,” Allison can’t help but add. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” her dad says, and hangs up. Allison hangs up as well and turns to Parrish.

“How’s everything in here?” she asks.

“He’s still out cold,” Parrish nods at Isaac. “No one’s come in except his doctor and nurses, and no one’s given him anything. I think it’s safe to say at this point that they’re not going to attack him.”

Allison nods in agreement. It makes sense. After the level of pushback they’ve been getting, the collectors are not likely to continue trying. They’ve probably left town.

_Lydia’s leaving town, too_.

Allison doesn’t want to think about that. Scott’s alive. He has to be.

She heads down to the ER waiting room, sending a text to Danny to let him know about Lydia. If Melissa’s still with him, he’ll tell her.

Then she sits down to wait.

* * *

 Lydia _hates_ her powers. She hates it with every fiber of her being. It’s _stupid_ and _pointless_ and she has no control over where it takes her, and she hates not being in control.

She doesn’t know where she is, but Chris Argent is next to her, a hand on her wrist and his hand on his holster, looking at her with concern.

“You with me?” he asks quietly, and she nods.

“Where are we?” she whispers.

Chris shakes his head. “I don’t know exactly, but I think I know _why_ we’re here.”

He gestures behind her and she turns around to see.

They’re in the woods, because of course they are, and a little down the way there’s an old church that probably hasn’t been used in at least a decade. It’s surrounded by woods, with a small gravel parking lot, and the front door is propped open. There’s a van out front, and two men are lifting a third out.

The man is clearly dead, and there’s dried black blood on his arm. Lydia can’t see the bite, but she’d bet her life there is one. And there’s only one Alpha in the area.

_Scott_.

“Scott’s got to be here,” she whispers.

Chris nods. “This is where the auction is going to be,” he says. “They seem to be setting it up.”

Lydia stares at the church. It doesn’t look like much, but that doesn’t mean anything anymore. Her Alpha’s in there, she knows it. He’s in there, and he’s hurt, and she has to fight back the urge to say _screw it_ and march in there herself.

She swallows hard. “Scott, if you can hear me, we know where you are. We have a plan.”

“Stiles is alive,” Chris suddenly adds, and Lydia gives him a startled look. “Scott, Stiles is alive, he’s on the way to the hospital now. Derek’s with him.”

“When did that happen?” she asks.

“About a half hour ago,” Chris says. “He’s probably already there. It was right after you left. I was concerned it was him you were going to, but now we know different.”

Lydia nods. _Thank God for that_.

“Hang in there, Scott. We’re coming for you.”

* * *

 Scott hears her. He hears her loud and clear, and he hears Chris. Stiles is alive, Stiles is safe, his pack knows where he is and they have a plan.

New strength flows through him. _I’m hanging on, guys. I knew you guys would find me._

_Thank you._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit okay. So I finished it. I finished the fic, I'm uploading the last three chapters all at once, but it's done you guys. I went two years with nothing and finally finished it. If you're still reading this, you're a goddamn Godsend.

The last thing Isaac remembers, Scott was missing and Stiles was being kidnapped. He remembers falling off the car, he remembers bright white agony, and then _nothing_.

Apparently, a lot happened while he was unconscious.

He’s sitting up in bed - once he’d woken up, Melissa had pulled some strings and got him and Danny put in the same room. Derek’s in a chair in the corner, an oxygen mask over his face hiding a murderous look. Stiles is still being looked at, unsurprisingly in worse shape than Derek. Lydia’s sitting at the foot of Danny’s bed and looks irritated. Allison’s pacing, and her dad’s in the opposite corner from Derek, watching her quietly.

“You’re _sure_ he was there?” Allison presses.

“He has to be,” Lydia says. “That man’s arm looked like Gerard’s had. He’d been Bitten. It didn’t take.”

“Scott’s not the only Alpha in the world,” Allison says.

“You’re overthinking it,” Chris says gently. “It’s not a coincidence. It’s unlikely that there’s another Alpha in the area, especially on Scott’s territory. And definitely not one Biting people.”

“But Scott doesn’t Bite people,” Isaac says.

Derek pulls the mask away from his face. “It had to be self-defense.”

His voice sounds _awful_ , and he winces before putting the mask back on, but he’s made his point. Isaac doesn’t like it.

Scott’s always been _very_ careful about Bites. He’d been turned without his consent and he refused to put that on anyone else. When they’d talked about expanding the pack, he’d straight up said he wouldn’t Bite someone who didn’t know exactly what they were getting into. If Scott’s Biting people now, he has to be in rough shape.”

“Stiles was with Scott,” Lydia says. “Scott had to have thought Stiles was dead. That’d be enough for _anyone_ to lose it.”

Derek again moves his mask. “Especially Stiles’ Alpha.”

Lydia glares at him until he puts the mask back on. He’s clearly not happy to do so, but as per usual, doesn’t have any idea what to do with Lydia when she gets like this, and Isaac tries really hard not to grin as he crosses his arms and practically _pouts_.

“So we know Scott’s alive,” Allison says. “We know where he is and we know where the auction is. And we _think_ he knows we’re coming for him.”

“That’s about it,” Lydia says.

Allison stops pacing and runs a hand through her hair. “When is the auction?”

“Tomorrow, is my guess,” Chris says.

“We should move before then,” Isaac says.

Chris shakes his head. “We’re at a disadvantage. We don’t have the manpower for an all-out attack. We don’t know the lay of the land or what condition Scott’s in, and we don’t know how many people there are.”

“There’s at least three,” Lydia says. “One’s dead. So maybe less.”

“Four,” Isaac says. “There was a woman that attacked us at the store.”

Lydia nods. “Four. One’s dead. Scott’s able to fight back, or _was_. He’s not dead, they’re going ahead with the auction.”

“They’ll want him as good a shape as they can get him,” Chris says. “If he’s too roughed up, he won’t be a challenge for the hunters.”

“Stiles saw Scott,” Allison says. “We could feel it. He knows what condition Scott’s in. Or was in.”

“He may not be helpful,” Chris says. “We don’t have time to wait for him to be able to tell us. We’re going to have to be ready to go at any moment.”

“So, play it by ear,” Isaac says, feeling exhausted. “Like always.”

“Plans usually go to shit,” Allison agrees, and finally sits down at the end of Isaac’s bed. “When Stiles is in a recovery room, I’m going to talk my way in there. They shouldn’t attack him, but just in case.”

“Tell him to take responsibility for his dreams,” Danny says, and everyone stares at him.

“What?” Allison finally asks.

Danny shrugs. “He said it to me once when I was in the hospital. At least, I think that was real. My paper was missing from my backpack, so it seems pretty likely.”

Isaac rolls his eyes. It seems like a very Stiles thing to do. The exasperated look on Lydia’s face tells him she’s thinking the same thing.

“Why would he steal your paper?” Chris asks.

Derek pulls the mask back. “The ley lines.”

“Leave that _on your face_ ,” Lydia says in an almost threatening tone. Derek narrows his eyes at her.

“Oh!” Danny says. “Wait, _what_? Harris told me that was pseudo-science. I knew he was full of it.”

“You were very helpful,” Isaac tells him.

“Thanks,” Danny says flatly. “You could have _asked_.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Lydia says. Danny rolls his eyes and lays back down on his bed.

“So now we wait?” he asks.

“Now we wait,” Allison agrees, and she doesn’t sound happy.

* * *

 It’s nine in the morning when Chris suddenly sends a mass text.

_Today, 1:15._

Derek’s feeling much better, and Allison relents when he demands to come with, reasoning that she needs a ‘wolf outside to be able to hear what’s going on. Isaac’s not allowed to leave the hospital and despite how much better he looks, doesn’t seem like he’d be steady on his feet. Derek tells him to stay, and goes with Allison and her dad to meet the sheriff, Parrish, and Cordova outside the hospital.

“Everyone ready?” Mr. Stilinski asks, and Derek nods with everyone. Lydia’s with Isaac and Danny, basically barricaded in their room since she’s undoubtedly going to try to leave. Melissa’s with Stiles, though she’s probably actually asleep, which is fine. They’re not going to come to the hospital. They’ve already tried that once.

Parrish and Cordova are dressed to look like hunters - leather jackets and sturdy boots, and Parrish has sunglasses on. They look the part, especially with the way they’re holding themselves, and if Derek didn’t know them, he’d think they _were_ hunters. Chris seems to approve as well.

“Here,” Chris says, and hands them both little earwigs. “Keep these in. We’ll be nearby, ready to go. If you need us, speak quietly, Derek will be able to hear you. Hold tight and we’ll come in for you. Don’t respond to any goading or bragging; they like to talk themselves up, but they don’t like competition. These kind of hunters like to have pissing contests.”

“Hooray,” Parrish says flatly, and Derek bites back a grin.

Chris doesn’t bother, giving a full smile at his tone. “They’ll ask for IDs at the front. Tell them Michael Dearing referred you, that’s my contact. If they call to check it out, he’ll back you up. Try not to stick out. I’m sure you know how to do undercover work.”

Parrish and Cordova both nod.

Derek feels that nervous thrill of actually _doing_ something. He prefers action to waiting, and now they have an actual viable plan, and they’re on their way to rescue Scott. There’s an end in sight.

“I have a question,” Cordova says as Allison hands them their IDs. “What do we plan to do with everyone there afterwards?”

The sheriff grins, the familiar Stilinski ‘ _I-have-a-plan_ ’ grin. “Actually, about that.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this.

This is _hell_.

Scott’s completely immobilized. He can’t move any direction. He can’t see. He can’t speak. He can still hear, can still smell, but he’s terrified they’re going to take those senses away, too.

They’d forced food and water down his throat early before locking him down like this, and he _hates_ that he’s relieved. He hates that he can feel his body healing, just a bit faster. He knows they did it because he was in too bad a shape for their damn buyers. He knows they’d rather kill him. He knows they still might.

It doesn’t matter. His pack is coming.

Scott has faith in his pack. He knows what they’re capable of. He knows they’re strong, despite their small size. He knows they’re smart and sneaky and creative. Stiles had hinted at a plan, Lydia had outright told him about it. Chris and Lydia know where he is, they’re coming for him, and he can stay calm until them.

Probably.

Despite himself, he loses track of time. He can’t focus at all, and he can’t orient himself in the room he’s in. He might as well be floating.

He’s shaken out of it when he hears someone come in the room with him, and he can feel it as they start to move. He pulls himself together slowly and realizes it’s the woman that’s moving him.

The floor is hardwood. The doors are old and creaky, and he can hear the wind outside. He can hear Nick in the distance, arguing with Brendon, and he tries not to feel guilt as he realizes they’re talking about Patrick.

He pushes the memory of what he’d down out of his head. He can’t think about that now. He _can’t_.

Luckily, a distraction comes in the form of vehicles heading up the drive. The road outside is gravel, and it helps Scott keep count of every person that comes out of each car. There’s less than he’d expected.

They start checking in. Nick’s the one at the door, apparently, checking IDs and demanding verification. Scott hears them start to seat themselves, definitely in a different room than him. He feels horribly exposed and vulnerable. It’s more than a little terrifying.

He’s on the verge of outright hyperventilating when he finally hears a voice he recognizes.

Parrish. And seconds after him, Cordova.

They get through the door easily, and Scott hears Parrish mutter, “Hold tight, Scott. The others are right outside.”

Scott forces his mind to focus. To separate all of the sounds going on around him, to _really_ listen. For a second, there’s nothing. And then -

_There._

That’s Allison. He can hear her whispering, “We’re sure he’s in there?”

And he hears Derek respond, “I’m sure.”

Scott could honestly cry. They’re here for him. They’ve got a plan. His pack is here. They found him. Just like he knew they would.

The door slams closed, and Scott jumps as he’s moved again.

He hears Brendon talking, but isn’t listening at all. He’s focusing on Allison and Derek, picking their heartbeats out like he’s done so many times before. They’re the only two actual pack members there, he’s sure of it, but it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

He feels the moment he’s moved into the room with the hunters. People being murmuring, and he can hear Parrish whisper, “We have visual.”

He can hear Derek take a long, slow breath before saying, “He’s there. They see him.”

“Sheriff, we have confirmation,” Chris Argent’s voice says.

* * *

The wait is killing Derek. He can hear Scott; he's restrained and unable to talk, but he's hardwired to recognize his Alpha’s heartbeat. He knows it's Scott.

He still can't feel Scott. It's uncomfortable, to know Scott's there and not be able to feel him. Derek's gotten used to having a real pack, to having that connection back. Being able to sense the others but not the Alpha is wrong.

“Wait for my signal,” the sheriff says. Derek tenses. He doesn't really like the plan, particularly because he's supposed to stay put, but he's ready just in case.

Derek relays everything he hears to Chris. He's aware Scott can hear them, and Allison is, too; she's whispering to him, little things to keep him calm.

“They're starting the bidding,” Derek says, ignoring the burning rage in his stomach. It's disgusting, what they're doing, and Derek's pissed.

“Parrish, Cordova, you hear me?” the sheriff says.

“Loud and clear,” Cordova mumbles, too quiet for any human to pick up. Derek confirms it.

“Standby,” the sheriff says. “We're getting in position.”

“Scott,” Allison says. “It's gonna get loud.”

“Now!” the sheriff says, and Derek watches gleefully as twenty-plus FBI agents storm the church.

It's chaos immediately. Allison has a death grip on Derek's arm as she demands a play-by-play, but there's only so much Derek can do. There’s too many people talking.

They all hear the gunshots.

Derek barely keeps himself in control and only does so because Parrish is talking quietly and urgently to Scott. Derek doesn't know how Scott's restrained, but he can hear the moment Parrish gets him free.

Scott's gasping in pain, and Derek can't just stand there. He _can't_. The instincts are too much.

Allison is hot on his heels as Derek charges, and it's that reason that Derek knows without a doubt that they hold the same position in the pack. He hits one hunter head on and can hear her hit another.

Derek feels a sharp pain in his left leg and looks down to see blood. He's been shot, but instantly he knows it's not a wolfsbane bullet, and that's a mistake. He immediately steps in front of Allison, takes another bullet, and glances at her. She nods, her crossbow up and her finger near the trigger.

It takes them less than a minute to clear a path to Scott, hidden behind the podium, Parrish knelt next to him. Derek takes several more hits, but heals almost immediately, and doesn't stop until he's down next to Scott’s side.

Scott's on his back, twitching and gasping. Something's wrong, but Derek can't figure out what until Parrish gestures.

“Collar,” he says, and Derek looks closer.

Sure enough, there's a collar around Scott's neck. Derek growls and reaches down. It's strong and it burns Derek's hands as he pulls it as hard as he can. He pulls until it snaps.

Instantly, the missing piece of the pack bond snaps into place. Scott slumps, but Derek can feel him again. He can feel Scott, grateful and exhausted, even as he passes out.

The gunshots quiet down, and several FBI agents are yelling. Derek can't be bothered to pay attention. The world feels a little more in balance, and he can feel Isaac, Lydia, and Danny realize what's going on. He can feel Stiles startle awake.

Then, he hears a long, drawn-out scream, and sighs.

“Lydia,” he tells Allison. She doesn't look surprised.

And then Agent McCall is dropping down to his knees next to Scott, and he looks out of his element.

It had been Sheriff Stilinski’s idea to bring McCall into the loop. The two did not get along at all, but the sheriff had reasonably pointed out that Scott was more important. Derek had agreed, and still did.

Agent McCall took it better than anyone had hoped, possibly because Derek had demonstrated for him, and it had taken a little over 24 hours for him to drag up several cold cases to convince his colleagues. Danny had called in an “anonymous tip” and that got the ball rolling.

Thank God they'd actually reported Scott missing.

“Is he -?” McCall asks, but can't bring himself to finish.

Derek shakes his head. “He'll be fine. He'll heal.”

“He still needs a hospital,” Parrish says in no uncertain tone. “They'll need documentation.”

“He'll love that,” Allison says.

“Everyone else is in there,” Derek mutters, and she actually lets out a laugh.

Parrish gets up to inform the sheriff, and McCall has a crime scene to begin processing, so Allison and Derek are left with Scott to wait for the paramedics. Derek does what he can, but without the proper supplies, it's not much.

“We did it,” Allison suddenly says, and Derek looks up at her. “He's alive. We got him back.”

“We did,” Derek says. Allison lets out another laugh, this one filled with disbelief and all the stress of the past few days. Derek can't help but let out one of his own, and just like that, they're both giggling uncontrollably.

That's how Chris and the sheriff find them, minutes later. Scott's still out, though his color is starting to return, and Allison’s hiccuping. Derek covers his mouth, feeling like an idiot.

Chris raises an eyebrow, but Sheriff Stilinski doesn't even blink as he says, “The paramedics are on their way. Stiles has commandeered Melissa's phone and is demanding an update. Please catch him up, I have a lot of work to do.”

“Okay,” Allison giggles, and Derek nods, struggling to keep a straight face. He pulls out his phone and types out a message, putting it directly in the group chat.

**He's alive. We got him.**

He sends the same one to Melissa's phone, and can feel it as the others get the message. Relief, joy, and triumph echo down the pack bond, and Derek has to grin.

He sits back on his heels and tries to get a grip. There's still a lot to deal with.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is the final chapter. Holy shit, I finally did it. Holy shit.

The next week is utter chaos.

Stiles doesn’t really get to take part of any of it, other than giving his own account of his kidnapping and what he’d seen at the cabin. Mostly he’s stuck in bed. His kneecap is bruised and he can’t put any weight on it, and the crutches they gave him hurt his cracked ribs, so he just doesn’t do a lot of moving around. His fingers are still broken, his throat and lungs are _wrecked_ , and he hurts. A lot.

Goddamn human healing times. He still doesn’t want to be a werewolf, but he wants to get up and _move_.

Danny’s in much the same position as him, given his head injury. He’s taking it much better than Stiles is, but then Danny’s pretty chill about most things. They spent a lot of time together on Stiles’ couch.

Isaac’s fully healed, if exhausted. The others are fine, but _Scott’s_ a mess.

He was understandably dehydrated and malnourished when they got him back. He’d definitely lost weight; Stiles had been right when he’d noticed that. He was dangerously exhausted and had injuries that seemed old and hadn’t healed all the way.

But it’s more than that. Scott’s not saying anything, because of course he’s not, but he can’t hide it from them. They can tell he’s not handling it well. He’s not sleeping well, he’s constantly on edge, he keeps having flashbacks and moments where he’s not quite present in the moment. Isaac touched his arm and nearly got punched, though Scott had managed to hold it back at the last second.

They’re at a loss what to do.

It’s Allison’s idea first. Scott’s been crashing at Stiles’ place, as has his mom (oh, _God_ ), so she heads over with Lydia in tow. Danny’s over not ten minutes after them. Isaac hasn’t left Scott’s side since they got him back if he can help it, and Derek pretty much never leaves the Stilinski house anyway, so they gather in Stiles’ room.

Stiles is sprawled out on his bed, his head in Derek’s lap as Derek reads. Allison practically shoves Scott down onto the end of the bed, then climbs up next to him. Isaac immediately catches on and fits himself in at the very end of the bed, closest to the door, and Lydia huffs and tucks herself in next to Stiles. Danny stares at them all, at the very full bed, and awkwardly moves to settle next to Derek by the headboard.

“Cool,” Stiles says as soon as everyone’s comfortable. He approves of this plan. “Good night.”

“Uh,” Scott starts to say, but Allison cuts him off.

“Go to sleep,” she says. “You need it, and we’ll watch your back.”

Scott’s quiet for a while, long enough Stiles almost falls asleep himself.

And then there’s a soft, “Thank you.”

Stiles groggily reaches down and tries to pat Scott’s head. He ends up patting Scott’s face. “Go to sleep.”

“Get your hand off my face,” Scott says. “What the hell, Stiles.”

Stiles moves his hand, grinning. He can feel the moment Scott finally lets himself relax and fall asleep, and discreetly holds out his hand towards Allison, who gives him a quiet high-five.

Derek shifts his weight, and Stiles can feel him press a kiss to his forehead before finding a position to fall asleep in. Danny ends up throwing his legs over Stiles’, as Lydia’s using his thighs as a pillow.

It should be awkward and cramped, but it’s not. It feels _right_.

It feels like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very bittersweet. I'm sorry for the two year radio silence.
> 
> This is the last of the Shutter 'Verse, I think. If I write anything else for it, it'll likely be just a one-shot. I'd like to think that this ends it pretty well, though. Stiles and Derek are very happy together, Scott heals, Danny gets used to the pack instincts. They grow up, they go to college, they get jobs, they settle down. Melissa and the sheriff date, eventually get married, and tease their sons relentlessly.
> 
> If you're somehow still reading this, I appreciate the hell out of you. I'm still blown away every day by the amount of love and support this series got. It started as a random whim, nearly four years ago. It's the reason I made my AO3 account. I never dreamed it'd get this big, or this long. It's so weird to be finishing this. I honestly never thought I'd come back to this. I'm glad I did.
> 
> So yeah. Thank you for reading. Thank you for your comments and kudos and patience. Just, thank you.


End file.
